Ann Taylor

The Pin

"Dear me! what signifies a pin!
  I'll leave it on the floor;
My pincushion has others in,
  Mamma has plenty more:
A miser will I never be,"
Said little heedless Emily.

So tripping on to giddy play,
  She left the pin behind,
For Betty's broom to whisk away,
  Or some one else to find;
She never gave a thought, indeed,
To what she might to-morrow need.

Next day a party was to ride,
  To see an air-balloon!
And all the company beside
  Were dress'd and ready soon:
But she, poor girl, she could not stir,
For just a pin to finish her.

'Twas vainly now, with eye and hand,
  She did to search begin;
There was not one­not one, the band
  Of her pelisse to pin!
She cut her pincushion in two,
But not a pin had slidden through!

At last, as hunting on the floor,
  Over a crack she lay,
The carriage rattled to the door,
  Then rattled fast away.
Poor Emily! she was not in,
For want of just ­a single pin!

There's hardly anything so small,
  So trifling or so mean,
That we may never want at all,
  For service unforseen:
And those who venture wilful waste,
May woeful want expect to taste.