  “I pray you now, my little child,” Thus once a kind old lady Spoke to her niece in accents mild, “Do try to be more steady. I know that you will often see Rude boys push, drive, and hurry; But little girls should never be All in a heat and flurry.” Illustration While thus the lady gave advice And lectured little Polly, To see her stand with downcast eyes, You'd think she'd owned her folly. She did, and many a promise made; But when her aunt departed, Forgetting all, the silly maid Off to the playground started. Illustration Now see what frolic and what fun, The little folks are after; Away they jump, away they run, With many a shout and laughter. Illustration But fools who never will be taught, Except by some disaster, Soon find their knowledge dearly bought, And of a cruel master. This little girl, who, spite of all Her good old aunt had spoken, Would romp about, had such a fall That her poor leg was broken. Illustration In sore amaze, those standing by Then placed her on a barrow; But oh! to hear her scream and cry Their souls it sure did harrow. Illustration See how her brother bursts in tears, When told the dreadful story; And see how carefully he bears The limb all wet and gory. Illustration Full many a week, screwed up in bed, She lingered sad and weary; Illustration And went on crutches, it is said, Until she died so dreary. Illustration |
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