With joy she picked the penny up, And with her fagots dry and brown "Now she has that," said the brownies, "Let flax be ever so dear, 'T will buy her clothes of the very best, For many and many a year!" "And go now," said the grandmother, All down into the lonesome glen, Through moist rank grass, by trickling streams, Went on the willing child. And when she came to the lonesome glen, She kept beside the burn, And neither plucked the strawberry-flower And while she milked the mother-ewe Within this lonesome glen, She wished that little Amy Were strong and well again. And soon as she had thought this thought, She heard a coming sound, As if a thousand fairy-folk Were gathering all around. 26 MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY. And then she heard a little voice, "The lady-fern is all unbroke, "Give her a fairy cake!" said one; Kind Mabel heard the words they spake, Thus happened it to Mabel 'Tis good to make all duty sweet, "T is good, like little Mabel, To have a willing mind. "METHINKS this world seems oddly made, And everything amiss," A dull, complaining atheist said, As stretched he lay beneath the shade, "Behold," quoth he, "that mighty thing, A pumpkin large and round, Is held but by a little string, Which upward cannot make it spring, "While on this oak an acorn small, That whosoe'er surveys this all, Its ill contrivance knows. My better judgment would have hung The pumpkin on the tree, And left the acorn slightly strung, 'Mong things that on the surface sprung, And weak and feeble be.” No more the caviller could say, For, upwards gazing as he lay, 28 THE PIN, NEEDLE, AND SCISSORS, The wounded part with tears ran o'er, THE PIN, NEEDLE, AND SCISSORS.- Mrs. Follen. T'is true, although 't is sad to say, "You make me laugh," the Needle cried; For you a very proper head, Without an eye and full of lead.” «You are so cross, and sharp, and thin," I hardly dare a word to say, I go abroad and gaily roam, While you are rusting here at home." "Stop!" cried the Needle, "you 're too much; You've brass enough to beat the Dutch: Do I not make the ladies' clothes, Ere I retire to my repose? Then who, forsooth, the glory wins? This is the world's unjust decree, You're used a while, then thrown away; And a snug crack for all your trouble.” True," said the Pin, "I am abused, And sometimes very roughly used; I often get an ugly crook, Or fall into a dirty nook; But there I lie, and never mind it; |