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LITTLE Saint best fits a little Shrine,

A little Prop best fits a little Vine,
As my small Cruse best fits my little Wine.

A little Seed best fits a little Soyle,
A little Trade best fits a little Toyle,
As my small Jarre best fits my little Oyle.

A little Bin best fits a little Bread,
A little Garland fits a little Head,
As my small Stuffe best fits my little Shed.


* Frogs.

A little Hearth best fits a little Fire,
A little Chappell fits a little Quire,
As my small Bell best fits my little Spire.

A little Stream best fits a little Boat,
A little Lead best fits a little Float,
As my small Pipe best fits my little Note.

A little Meat best fits a little Bellie,
As sweetly, Lady, give me leave to tell ye,
This little Pipkin fits this little Jellie.

Robert Herrick.

His Grange; or, Private Wealth

To tell how night drawes hence, I've none,

A Cock
I have, to sing how day drawes on.

I have
A maid (my Prew) by good luck sent,

To save
That little, Fates me gave or lent.

A Hen
I keep, which creeking day by day,

Tells when
She goes her long white egg to lay.

A Goose
I have, which, with a jealous care,

Lets loose
Her tongue, to tell what danger's neare.

A Lamb
I keep (tame) with my morsells fed,

Whose Dam
An Orphan left him (lately dead).

A Cat
I keep, that playes about my House,

Grown fat
With eating many a miching * Mouse.

To these
A Trasy † I do keep, whereby

I please
The more my rurall privacie :

Which are
But toyes, to give my heart some ease :

Where care
None is, slight things do lightly please.

Robert Herrick.

Nurse's Song

WHEN the voices of children are heard on the green,

, And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast,

And everything else is still. “Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,

And the dews of night arise ;
Come, come, leave off play, and let us away,

Till the morning appears in the skies.”


+ Pilfering.

+ His spaniel.


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“No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,

And we cannot go to sleep ; Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,

And the hills are all covered with sheep.”
“Well, well, go and play till the light fades away,

And then go home to bed.”
The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed,
And all the hills echoed.

William Blake.

The Shepherd


OW sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot !

From the morn to the evening he strays ;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply ;
He is watchful while they are in pe ce,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh.

William Blake,

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