There is a quiet little stream, Where tall green sedges spread their leaves, And water-lilies float. Close by the margin of the brook Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass, And then she sat for four long weeks Until the ducklings all came out- One peeped out from beneath her wing, "That's very rude," said old Dame Duck, "Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!" ""Tis close," said Dame Duck, shoving out "Yes," said the ducklings, waddling on: "That's better," said their mother; "But well-bred ducks walk in a row, Straight-one behind another." "Yes," said the little ducks again, All waddling in a row: "Now to the pond," said old Dame DuckSplash, splash, and in they go. "Let me swim first," said old Dame Duck, There, snap at those great brown-winged flies, "Now when you reach the poultry-yard, Will feed you, with the other fowls, "The hens will peck and fight, but mind, I hope that all of you Will gobble up the food as fast As well-bred ducks should do. "You'd better get into the dish, In that case, I should use my foot, The ducklings did as they were bid, That, from that day, the other fowls Got hardly any food. "Aunt Effie." The Notorious Glutton A DUCK who had got such a habit of stuffing, That all the day long she was panting and puffing, And by every creature who did her great crop see, Was thought to be galloping fast for a dropsy; One day, after eating a plentiful dinner, With full twice as much as there should have been in her, While up to her forehead still greedily roking, Was greatly alarmed by the symptoms of choking. Now there was an old fellow, much famed for discerning (A drake, who had taken a liking for learning), And high in repute with his feathery friends, Was called Dr. Drake: for this doctor she sends. In a hole of the dunghill was Dr. Drake's shop, So taking a handful of suitable things, And brushing his topple and pluming his wings, And putting his feathers in apple-pie order, He went to prescribe for the lady's disorder. "Dear sir," said the duck, with a delicate quack, "I feel so distended with wind, and opprest, To suffer with patience these pains in my gizzard." "Give me leave," said the doctor with medical look, As her cold flabby paw in his fingers he took; "By the feel of your pulse, your complaint, I've been thinking, Must surely be owing to eating and drinking." "Oh! no, sir, believe me," the lady replied "I've only been raking a bit in the gutter, Where cook has been pouring some cold melted butter, The doctor was just to his business proceeding, Her remains were interred in a neighbouring swamp Ann and Jane Taylor. The Butterfly's Ball "COME, take up your hats, and away let us haste To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast, The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summon'd the crew, And the Revels are now only waiting for you." So said little Robert, and pacing along, And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, A Mushroom their Table, and on it was laid |