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النشر الإلكتروني




CHERRIES are ripe, cherries are ripe,

O give the baby one;
Cherries are ripe, cherries are ripe,

But baby shall have none :
Babies are too young to choose,
Cherries are too sour to use;

But by-and-bye, made into a pie, No one will them refuse.

Up in the tree, robin I see,

Picking one by one;
Shaking his bill, getting his fill,

Down his throat they run.
Robins want no cherry pie,
Quick they eat, and off they fly;

My little child, patient and mild, Surely will not cry.

Cherries are ripe, cherries are ripe,

But we will let them fall; Cherries are ripe, cherries are ripe,

But bad for babies small : Gladly follow mother's will, Be obedient, kind, and still,

Waiting awhile, delighted you 'll smile, And joyful eat your fill.



WHEN first my eyes beheld the light, Who said those little eyes were bright, And that I was her heart's delight?

My mother.

Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses pressed ?

My mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet lullaby,
And rocked me that I should not cry?

My mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?

My mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God's holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way?

My mother.



And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,

My mother

O no; the thought I could not bear;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,

My mother.




WHEN the Arts in their infancy were,

In a fable of old 't is exprest,
A wise Magpye constructed that rare

Little house for young birds, call’d a nest.

This was talk'd of the whole country round;

You might hear it on every bough sung, “Now no longer upon the rough ground

Will fond mothers brood over their young:

“For the Magpye, with exquisite skill

Has invented a moss-covered cell, Within which a whole family will

In the utmost security dwell."

To her mate did each female bird say, “ Let us fly to the Magpye, my dear; If she will but teach us the way,

A nest we will build here.

us up

“It's a thing that's close arch'd over head,

With a hole made to creep out and in; We, my bird, might make just such a bed,

If we only knew how to begin.”

To the Magpye soon every bird went,

And in modest terms made their request, That she would be pleased to consent

To teach them to build up a nest.

She replied, “I will show you the way,

So observe every thing that I do: First two sticks cross each other I lay“ To be sure,” said the Crow; “why I knew

“It must be begun with two sticks,

And I thought that they crossed should be.” Said the Pye,

“ Then some straw and moss mix In the way you now see done by me.

“O yes, certainly,” said the Jackdaw,

“ That must follow, of course, I have thought: Though I never before building sav

I guess’d that without being taught."



“More moss, straw, and feathers I place,

In this manner," continued the Pye. “Yes, no doubt, Madam, that is the case :

Though no builder myself, so thought I.” Whatever she taught them beside,

In his turn every bird of them said, Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried,

He had just such a thought in his head.

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Still the Pye went on showing her art,

Till a nest she had built up half-way;
She no more of her skill would impart,

But in anger went fluttring away.
And this speech in their hearing she made,
As she perch'd o'er their heads on a tree:

all were well skill'd in my trade, Pray, why came ye to learn it of me? “ When a scholar is willing to learn,

He with silent submission should hear : Too late they their folly discern;

The effect to this day does appear. “ For whenever a Pye's nest you see,

Her charming warm canopy view, All birds' nests but her's seem to be,

A Magpye's nest just cut in two."


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