Nov. 1st, 2007 03:38 am
seminarist: (Default)
(ещё из той же книжки)

I hate to see a little girl
That does not love to rise,
And have the water, fresh and sweet,
Cover her face and eyes.

I hate to see her pretty dress
So careless look and tossed,
Her toys all scattered here and there,
Her thread and needle lost.

I hate to see her, at her play,
When little girls have met
To frolic, laugh and run about,
Grow peevish, cry and fret.

I hate to hear her tell a lie -
What's not her own to take;
Mamma's commands to disobey,
And father's rules to break.

And now I've told you what I hate,
I'll only stop to say,
Perhaps I'll tell you what I love
Upon some other day.

*выделение моё - С.
seminarist: (Default)
Впрочем, что мы всё о грустном. Вот песня о трезвости - несомненно, Том Сойер, маршируя в рядах общества трезвости, пел что-нибудь похожее.


Ladies and gentlemen,
List to my song:
Hurrah for temperance
All the day long;
I'll taste not, handle not,
Touch not the wine,
For every little boy like me
The temperance pledge should sign.

I'm a temperance boy
Just six years old,
And I love temperance
Better than gold;
I'll taste not, &c.

Let every little boy
Remember my song,
For God loves the children
That never do wrong.
I'll taste not, &c.
seminarist: (Default)
А вот совсем миссис Мортимер:

My little body's formed by God -
'T is made of flesh and blood;
The slender bones are placed within,
And over all is laid the skin.

My little body is very weak -
A fall or blow my bones might break;
The water soon might stop my breath,
The fire might close my eyes in death...

Или вот ещё:


I am young, but I must die;
In my grave I soon shall lie:
Am I ready now to go,
If the will of God be so?..
seminarist: (Default)
"Oh, fie, Amelia; I'm ashamed
To hear you quarrel so:
Leave off those naughty tricks, my child -
Go play with your sister, go."

"I sha'n't, mamma, the little girl
May play with whom she can;
And while she lives, she shall not have
My waxen doll again."

"Poor little Betsey Smith, she sits
Day after day alone;
She had a darling sister once,
But now she's dead and gone.

"Betsey was quite a fretful child,
And when she used to play
With pretty little Emeline,
She quarreled every day.

"One day her sister said to her,
'Don't, Betsey, be so cross;
Indeed, I am not well today,
And fear I shall be worse.'

" 'Not well? Oh yes, you're very sick!
I don't believe it's true;
You only want to coax mamma
To get nice things for you.'

"But Emma lingered here a while,
Then closed her eyes and died:
Ah, who can tell the sorrow now,
That fills poor Betsey's mind?

"And now she goes away and sits,
Day after day alone;
She does not want to sing or play,
Since sister Emma's gone."
seminarist: (Default)


Tell me, mamma, if I must die
One day, as little baby died,
And look so very pale, and lie
Down in the graveyard by his side?

Shall I leave dear papa and you,
And never see you any more?
Tell me, mamma, if this is true;
I did not know it was before.


'T is true, my love, that you must die;
The God who made you says you must:
And every one of us shall lie,
Like the dear baby in the dust.

These hands, and feet, and busy head
Shall waste and crumble quite away;
But though your body shall be dead,
There is a part which can't decay.
seminarist: (Default)

See that heathen mother stand
Where the sacred current flows;
With her own maternal hand
Mid the waves her babe she throws.

Hark! I hear the piteous scream;
Frightful monsters seize their prey,
Or the dark and bloody stream
Bears the struggling child away.

Fainter now, and fainter still,
Breaks the cry upon the ear;
But the mother's heart is steel,
She unmoved that cry can hear.

Send, O send the Bible there,
Let its precepts reach the heart;
She may then her children spare -
Act the mother's tender part.

(Hastings' "Nursery Songs")

Read more... )
seminarist: (Default)

Go on, go on, go on, go on,
Go on, go on, go on,
Go on, go on, go on, go on,
Go on, go on, GO ON !


Oct. 29th, 2007 12:20 pm
seminarist: (Default)
Книжка детских стихов: Songs For the Little Ones At Home

The Beggar-Girl

There's a poor beggar going by,
I see her looking in;
She's just about as big as I,
Only so very thin.

She has no shoes upon her feet,
She is so very poor;
And hardly anything to eat:
I pity her I'm sure.

But I have got nice clothes, you know,
And meat, and bread, and fire;
And dear mamma, that loves me so,
And all that I desire.

If I were forced to stroll so far,
Oh dear, what should I do?
I wish she had a kind mamma,
Just such a one as you.

Here, little girl, come back again,
And hold that ragged hat,
And I will put a penny in:
There, buy some bread with that.

April 2017

23 4 5 6 78


RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 02:00 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios