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SONGS FOR THE

neice eset
My mother tells me, God has said

We must not hurt what God has made ;
For God is very kind and good,

And gives e’en little flies their food ;
And he loves every little child,

Who is kind-hearted, good, and mild.

 

THE BUTTERFLY.

The butterfly, an idle thing,

Nor honey makes, nor yet can sing,
Like busy bee, and bird ; |

Nor does it, like the prudent ant,

Lay up the grain for times of want—
A wise and cautious hoard.

My youth is but a summer’s day ;
Then like the bee and ant, Ill lay
A store of learning by ;
And while from flower to flower I rove,
My stock of wisdom I'll improve,
Nor be a butterfly.