A TREASURY OF STORIES, JINGLES AND RHVMES,

MARCH AND PUSSY-WILLOW.

[° you ask me why I am laughing so,
I will tell: you true.—An hour ago,
As I played on the bank of the silvery creck,

I broke off a branch from the Willow sleek.

Oh ho! it was fun to hear and to see
How she fretted and fumed and scolded me.
She called on the Wind—the Wind came light—

And together they beat me left and right.

But all her lashes and all her whips
Only tickled my cheeks, with their fleecy tips:

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