Chapter I: Front Matter

_Richard and his Brother_

_see page 1_]

THE

KEEPSAKE;

OR,

POEMS AND PICTURES

FOR

_CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH_

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR DARTON, HARVEY, AND DARTON,
55, GRACECHURCH-STREET.

1818.

CONTENTS.

Page.

_Richard and his Brother_ 1

_Sleepy Mary_ 2

_Mary's Lesson_ 3

_Edward thought he knew better than his Mamma_ 5

_Impatient Julia_ 9

_The Cuckoo_ 12

_Red Shoes and Black Shoes_ 13

_The Gardeners_ 15

_Little Girl_ 17

_The Blind Boy_ 19

_Spring_ 22

_Summer_ 23

_Autumn_ 25

_Winter_ 27

_Anne and Edward, Part I._ 29

--------------- _Part II._ 31

_George and Edmund_ 33

_Fanny_ 37

_Alfred_ 40

_William_ 41

THE KEEPSAKE.

RICHARD AND HIS BROTHER.

Richard, come and play with me,
Underneath the willow tree;
Sitting in its peaceful shade,
We'll sing the song papa has made,
Whilst its drooping branches spread,
Stretching far above our head,
Sweetly tempering the blaze
Of the sun's meridian rays.
There the rose and violet blow,
The lily with her bell of snow,
And the richly scented woodbine,
Round about its trunk doth twine;
There the busy bee shall come,
And gather sweets to carry home.
Oh, how happy we shall be,
Underneath the willow tree!

SLEEPY MARY.

Mary, raise that sleepy head,
For the lark doth carol high,
And the sun has left his bed--
Mary, ope that sleepy eye.

Come, and let me wash you clean,
Brush your hair and tie your frock;
There's your sister Geraldine,
Waiting at the mossy rock.

_Sleepy Mary_]

Hark! the little chicken's cries,
Loudly call for Mary's care,
But if the sluggard will not rise,
George their breakfast shall prepare.

Who shall get the fresh-laid egg,
To place beside her father's cup?
Who shall pour the tea, I beg,
If my Mary is not up?

MARY'S LESSON.

Come, little Mary, come to me,
And say your lesson on my knee,
Your book is there, the pointer in it,
All ready to begin this minute.

What! pout your lip, and scream and cry,
And say, "I won't, I can't:"--Oh fie!
Then go, and in that corner stay,
Till sobs and tears have pass'd away;
Till you can come with voice more mild,
And say, "Mamma, forgive your child."

What little girl is this, whose eyes
Smile through her tears, while thus she cries?
"My dear mamma, I love you, pray
Forgive your child, and let me say
My lesson, standing at your knee,
Then give a kind sweet kiss to me."
It is my Mary! now her look
Is turn'd attentive to her book,
And now her lesson she has read,
Her task without a fault has said,
Mamma's best kiss she now has won,
So well her lessons she has done:

_Mary's Lesson_]

She's happy now, and good and gay,
And joins her sisters at their play;
There on the grass they skip, they sing,
Till all the hills and valleys ring.

EDWARD

THOUGHT HE KNEW BETTER THAN HIS MAMMA.

Brightly shines the winter's sun,
O'er mountains clad with snow,
Blithe and gay the youthful throng
Sport in the plains below.

"Come," the venturous Edward cries,
"Let's try yon glassy tide;
Upon its smooth and frozen breast
We'll make a glorious slide."

"Oh, stay," his sister Ellen said,
"My dearest Edward, stay!
You know mamma forbade us all
To try the ice to-day."

"Hush! foolish Ellen, see how strong,
How firm the ice appears:
Mamma, I'm sure, if she were here,
Would banish all her fears.

"This stone with mighty force I throw,
Nor break, nor crack you see;
Then surely I may slide secure,
It will not yield with me."

He said, and darted o'er the stream,
Then turn'd in triumph round:
"Come, follow me, my comrades brave,
What danger have I found?"

_Edward_]

In his success exulting now,
He leaps with sudden spring--
It cracks! it breaks! his cries are vain,
He plunges headlong in!

Who now the hapless boy shall snatch
From a cold wat'ry grave?--
Poor Ellen flies, with breathless speed,
Her brother's life to save.

He rises half--her shawl she flings
Into his eager hand,
Then, with her playmate's added strength,
She drags him safe to land.

With shivering limbs and dripping clothes,
Homeward he pensive turns;
He deeply now, alas! too late,
His disobedience mourns.

For three long months poor Edward groan'd
Upon a bed of pain;
'Twas three long months before he felt
The breeze of heaven again.

These three long months did Ellen strive,
By every tender care,
To soften Edward's grief, and soothe
The pain she wish'd to share.

What joy for both, when he once more
Could join the festive throng!
Yet oft he paus'd amid their sports,
To think if _this_ were wrong.

_Impatient Julia_]

IMPATIENT JULIA.

"Bring me my breakfast instantly,"
Th' impatient Julia said;
It came--"'Tis meal, 'tis nasty meal,
When I had order'd bread!"

She tastes:--"Oh, it is burnt," she cried,
"Pray take it all away,
And bring some fresh, and quickly too,
Nor keep me here all day."

Her mother passing near the door,
O'erheard her loud commands,
And entering, met the maid, who held
The breakfast in her hands.

"Julia, what shameful words are those!
What shameful conduct too!
The milk is good, too good for those
Who ask and speak like you.

"From Betty now your breakfast take,
And drink it, if you choose,
And beg that she your haughtiness
And passion will excuse.

"What! silent and perverse become?
Then, Betty, you may go
And give the milk to that poor girl
Who's in the yard below.

"_She_ spins or labours hard all day,
Yet eats the coarsest food;
She's thankful for the smallest gift,
And smiles, because she's good.

"But you, with that sad pouting lip,
And brow o'erhung with gloom,
May, if you please, from hence retire,
And stay in your own room.

"No breakfast you will have to-day,
Nor need again appear,
Till from your brow you chase that frown,
And from your eye the tear.

"Till you can come with cheerful mien,
And pardon ask from me;
Then, if you are a better girl,
Forgiven you may be."

THE CUCKOO.

Little cuckoo, com'st thou here,
When the blooming spring is near,
To sing thy song and tell thy tale,
To every hill and every vale?

Tell me, is thy distant home
Far across the salt sea foam?
Or hast thou, hidden from the day,
Slept the wintry hours away?

Welcome, cheering bird to me,
Where'er thy wintry mansion be,
In the earth, or o'er the main,
Welcome to these fields again!

_The Cuckoo_]

_Red and Black Shoes_]

Short thy visit to this shore,
April and May are quickly o'er;
Then, Cuckoo, chaunt thy strain in peace,
For in June thy song shall cease.

RED SHOES AND BLACK SHOES.

Which must I have, little black shoes or red shoes,
Little thick shoes or thin shoes, which shall be mine?
In winter 'tis wet, and the roads are all dirt,
In summer 'tis dry, and the weather is fine.

Then come, little black shoes, 'tis now winter weather,
Your soles are so thick, you will keep me quite dry;
Not a splash nor a spot can get into my stockings,
So nice and so tight round my ancles you tie.

And you, little red shoes, so slender and thin,
You shall wait in my draw'r till the dirt's gone away;
When I'll walk with mamma when she goes to the farm,
You will never feel heavy through a long summer's day.

Then red shoes and black shoes, you both shall be mine,
The one in the dirt I will constantly wear,
The others in summer, when the walks are all dry:
So thick shoes and thin shoes rest quietly here.

THE GARDENERS.

Now the wintry winds are gone,
See how brightly shines the sun;
The violet sweet and primrose pale,
Now adorn the shelter'd vale.

The pilewort rears her joyous head,
To the sunbeam widely spread,
Whilst her little glossy eye
Glows with a deep and yellow dye.

To the garden we will go,
Take the rake, the spade, the hoe,
Dig the border nice and clean,
And rake till not a weed be seen.

Then our radish-seed we'll sow,
And mignionette a long, long row;
And ev'ry flowret of the year,
Shall have a place of shelter here.

In gay profusion they shall spread
O'er each border and each bed,
And when joyous May shall come,
We'll deck the lofty pole at home.

Garlands gay in wreaths we'll twine,
That with brightest colours shine;
And dance around, till setting sun
Proclaims the children's day is done.

_The Gardeners_]

LITTLE GIRL.

Little girl, little girl, where are you going?
Down in the meadow where cowslips are blowing.
Little girl, little girl, what to do there?
To gather a garland to deck my brown hair.
Little girl, little girl, why all alone?
My mother has sent me, and playmates I've none.
Then follow me, follow me, down to yon wood,
Where you shall find playmates both gentle and good;
We'll ask them, we'll ask them to join in your play,
And your mother shall give you a long holiday.
From Erin, from Erin, the cotter shall bring,
To twine a gay garland, her shamrock of spring;
In her plaid, in her plaid, Scotia's daughter shall come,
With the thistle that grows on her mountains at home;
The peasant, the peasant of France shall be there,
And add to the chaplet his lily so fair;
Dark glancing, dark glancing, the daughter of Spain,
With the bloom of her orange shall join the gay train;
And leaving, and leaving his cold northern tides,
A plume from his eagle the Russian provides;
Whilst England, fair England, the wreath shall adorn,
With her rose-bud more bright than the blushes of morn.
Then carol, then carol the sweet strains of peace,
And never again may her harmony cease;
May the dreams, may the dreams of ambition be o'er,
And the falchion of war be at rest evermore.

_Little Girl_]

THE BLIND BOY.

"Mamma, what a pretty new basket you've got,"
Little Emma exclaim'd with delight;
"The straw-work below is so firm and so neat,
And the bag such a beautiful white."

"I am glad you approve it, my love: I myself
Think it pretty and neat, I confess;
And when I have told you by whom it was made,
You will not, I think, like it the less.

"You remember, no doubt, that blind boy on the green,
Whose father and mother both died,
And left him in poverty, sickness, and grief,
Without a protector or guide.

"A kind and rich lady, who heard his sad case,
Restor'd him to life by her aid,
Then plac'd him secure in the house for the blind,
And all the expences defray'd.

"There they taught him these beautiful baskets to make,
With straw-work of every kind;
And now he's employ'd, and his living can earn,
And is useful and happy, though blind."

"And may I believe it," cried Emma, "that Jem,
Who so helpless and poor us'd to be,
Has made this nice basket without any help,
And as neatly as if he could see?"

"As you doubt poor Jem's powers," her mother replied,
"What I've said to be true I must prove;
So finish your work, get your bonnet and coat,
And quickly come to me, my love."

_The Blind Boy_]

Her work was soon finish'd, her books all laid by,
Her coat and her bonnet put on,
And joyfully taking mamma's ready hand,
To the school for the blind she is gone.

With delight and amazement there Emma beheld
Poor Jem at his daily employ;
As he platted his basket, he sung to his work,
And smil'd with contentment and joy.

"Ah, mamma," exclaim'd Emma, as home they return'd,
"Ev'ry penny you give me I'll save;
Neither gingerbread, comfit, nor nut will I buy,
Till a basket of Jem's I can have."

SPRING.

Wintry winds no longer blow,
Far away are frost and snow;
Peeping from its grassy bed,
The primrose rears its modest head;
And midst its leaves the violet blue,
Scents the air and morning dew.
Hark! the sky-lark, mounting high,
Carols in the clear blue sky;
The thrush and blackbird from the spray,
Chaunt their blithesome roundelay;
The little lambkins, safe from harm,
In their snow-white fleeces warm,
Gambol o'er the sunny mead,
And prove their strength, and try their speed:
From yon grassy knoll they spring,
And chase each other round the ring.

_Spring_]

To the farm-yard we will go,
Where they milk the hornless cow;
Mamma will give us wine and cake,
And a syllabub we'll make.
Charles and Jane shall hold the bowl,
And Margaretta milk it full:
Each shall join to help the others,
Like good sisters and good brothers.

SUMMER.

What does bounteous summer bring?
The lengthen'd day and shorten'd night;
Milder breezes softly blowing,
Warmer suns, and skies more bright.

Long and thick the grass is grown,
Ready for the mower's care,
When his scythe has laid it low,
To the hay-field we'll repair.

Each shall have a fork and rake,
To spread it widely to the sun:
Many hands together join'd,
Make the labour quickly done.

In the hedge, the woodbine twining,
Fills the air with sweet perfume;
The blushing rose, in gay profusion,
Joins its fragrance and its bloom.

In the mossy hedge-row peeps,
The strawberry with lowly head;
We can quickly fill our baskets,
With its berries rosy red.

Little Anna dearly loves
Strawb'ries red, and milk so white:
We will carry plenty home,
On them she can sup to-night.

_Summer_]

Anna loves to skip and play,
But she can also read and spell;
She learns with careful hand to sew,
And she deserves her supper well.

AUTUMN.

Autumn comes, her prospects glow
With yellow fields of waving corn;
The reaper with his sickle bright,
Hastes to work at early morn.

Whilst the morning breezes blow,
Through the burning sultry noon,
And till evening dews descend,
Still he works and labours on.

Let us seek the harvest field,
There is work for you and me?
We can help the sheaves to bind:
Idle hands we need not be.

When Maria's task is done,
We will to the nut-wood go;
Each a bag and hooked stick,
Down to pull the cluster'd bough.

Oh! how tempting ripe they hang:
Softly, softly pull them down,
Lest the bright brown nuts should fall,
And leave the empty husk alone.

Bags and pockets all are full,
And evening says we must not stay;
With heavy loads we'll hasten home,
And come again another day.

_Autumn_]

_Winter_]

These shall be our winter store,
When Christmas holidays are come;
Then round the fire we'll social be,
And give our happy playmates some.

WINTER.

Howling through the leafless trees,
Winter calls his northern breeze.
Do no flow'rets dare appear,
In this season of the year?
Yes, amidst the wintry scene,
The daisy's lowly gem is seen;
And tho' it boasts no varied dyes,
The Christmas-rose a charm supplies.
Then through the frost and through the snow,
In a merry group we'll go,
Take our sledges and our skates,
Winter ne'er for sluggards waits.
We'll throw the snow-balls far and wide,
Beneath the mountain's hoary side;
Or build a giant tall and strong,
With shoulders broad, and limbs as long,
As Gog and Magog in Guildhall;
There it shall tower above us all,
Till sun and thaw shall melt its crown,
And bring its snowy honours down.
And when the dark'ning evening's come,
Fast away we'll scamper home,
And standing close around the fire,
The blazing faggots we'll admire,
And sip our milk, and work and read,
Till nurse cries out, "To bed! to bed!"

ANNE AND EDWARD.

PART I.

Loudly blows the northern wind,
And fast the snow descends,
Low before the driving storm,
The slender willow bends.

Why on such a dismal night
Does Anna ope her door,
And in her little ragged cloak,
Walk quickly o'er the moor?

She hastens to the neighbouring town,
To beg some friendly aid,
To save her mother, who so sick
And ill in bed is laid.

Her little brother by her side
Will watch whilst Anne's away,
And gladly, for his mother's sake,
He leaves each favourite play.

But see how quickly Anne returns,
A cheerful look she wears,
And softly, underneath her cloak,
Med'cine and food she bears.

These to her mother, day by day,
With duteous love she gives,
Whilst little Edward's cheerful smile,
Her anxious care relieves.

_Anne and Edward_