LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 71

“Oh pray buy my roses—for hard is my fate,
My poor little sisters want bread ;
Bestow but a mite, before ’t is too late ;
Our parents to heaven are fled.
Then pray buy my roses, indeed they ’re not
dear ;
Each bud shall be moistened with gratitude’s
tear.

THE LAMB’S LULLABY.
The pretty little lambs that lie,
And sleep upon the grass,
Have none to sing them lullaby
But the night winds as they pass.

While I, a happy little maid,
Bid dear papa good-night ;
And in my crib so warm am laid,
And tucked up snug and tight.

And then some pretty hymn Ann sings
Until to sleep I go;

But the young helpless lambs, poor things,
Have none to lull them so.

Haste, kind mamma, and call them here,
Where they ’ll be warm as I;

For in the chilly fields, I fear,
Before the morn they ’ll die.