  Young William Goodchild was a boy Who lov'd to give his playmates joy; And when his mother sent his cake, Rejoic'd for his companions' sake. "Come round," he cried, "each take a slice, Each have his proper share of ice; We'll eat it up among us, here: My birth-day comes but once a year." A poor blind man, who came that way, His violin began to play; And tears ran slowly down his cheek. "What makes you weep?" young William cried. "I'm poor and hungry," he replied, "For food and home I'm forced to play, But I have eaten nought to-day." "Poor man!" said William, "half my share Remains, which I will gladly spare; I wish 'twas larger for your sake, So take this penny and the cake." I need not ask each youthful breast Which of these boys you like the best; Let goodness, then, incitement prove, And imitate the boy you love. |
|
