Wake, Dolly!

Wee-Wee Songs Are put away; Dolly, wake, ’Tis time to play!

You have been So good to-day I am sure You ought to play.

Dolly, now You must obey; Wake, I say, And come and play!

Don’t you hear me When I say, Dolly, wake, ’Tis time to play?

Do you dare To disobey When I call, Come out to play?

Are you deaf, My pet, to-day? Then I’ll lead you Out to play.

“What beautiful roses! Oh do, dear mamma, Just pick one or two ere we go; If the gardener were here he would not refuse To give us some flowers, I know.”

“The gardener’s not here,” her mother replied; He asked us to see his sweet flowers; “I trust, my dear child, you would not wish to steal,-- These roses, you know, are not ours.

“Their beautiful fragrance you now can inhale, Their lovely, bright colors enjoy, Should you steal but one rose you’d be happy no more, You would lose all this innocent joy.”

“O no! dear mamma, I should not wish to steal, So I’ll bid these sweet roses adieu! Now, Rover,” said Ella, “we’re ready to play, And I will be happy with you.”

IDA MAY.

No little girl More bright and gay, Or happier Than Ida May

As she ran off To school one day, And passed the store Of Mr. Gray,

Where, near the door, Some ripe plums lay, And Satan whispered, Ida May--

Take but one plum, Then run away; You’ll not be seen By Mr. Gray.

Oh, had she thought One prayer to say, She’d not have sinned, Poor Ida May!

She caught one up, Then ran away, And was not seen By Mr. Gray.

Ah, sinful child, To disobey The Word of God-- Hear, Ida May!

“Thou shalt not steal!” Now hear Him say, And you have stolen From Mr. Gray.

The voice of God Will you obey? It whispers now, Stop! Ida May,--

’Tis not too late, Go back, you may Return the plum To Mr. Gray.

Then lift your heart To God, and pray, “Forgive the sin Of Ida May.”

That still, small voice She did obey, And ran with haste To Mr. Gray,

And told him all Without delay; The good man pitied Ida May.

He gently wiped Her tears away; And when she left, Kind Mr. Gray

Said to the child, “One moment stay-- I’ll give some plums To Ida May.”

“I could not eat A plum to-day!” Said Ida, then, To Mr. Gray.

She went to school And all the way God saw the heart Of Ida May

Was sweetly raised To Him, to pray That He would wash Her sins away--

For Jesus’ sake. And God that day, Freely forgave Dear Ida May.

Is it right, Mr. Peacock, to strut about so? Your plumage is fine ’tis allowed; And had you but painted that beautiful tail, You would then, with some reason, feel proud.

Many bright little flowers, as pretty as you, Are found in some shady retreat. Go learn of the rose-buds and violets, too, Their modesty renders them sweet.

God gave you the plumage we so much admire; God painted the butterfly’s wing; God deck’d the green fields with flowers so gay, And taught the dear birds how to sing.

Many things in this beautiful world He has made To look quite as pretty as you; So please, Mr. Peacock, don’t feel quite so proud, As your gay, brilliant plumage we view!