Ann Taylor (Энн Тейлор)

Little Girls Must Not Fret

WHAT is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
There–lay down your head on my bosom–that's right,
And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night.

What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.

She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there–
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more. 

1. The Cut
2. Deaf Martha
3. Mischief
4. Learning to Go Alone
5. Careless Mathilda

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1731

Последние стихотворения

To English version