Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky. (1)
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night
Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
How could he see where to go,
If you did not twinkle so?
In the dark blue sky you keep,
Often through my curtains peep
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Light the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
"The Cruel Boy and the Kittens"
What! go to see the kittens drowned,
On purpose, in the yard!
I did not think there could be found
A little heart so hard.
Poor kittens! no more pretty play
With pussy's wagging tail:
Oh ! I'd go far enough away,
Before I'd see the pail.
Poor things! the little child that can
Be pleased to go and see,
Most likely, when he grows a man,
A cruel man will be.
And many a wicked thing he'll do,
Because his heart is hard;
A great deal worse than killing you,
Poor kittens, in the yard.
"Little Birds and Cruel Boys"
A little bird built a warm nest in a tree,
And laid some blue eggs in it, one, two, and three,
And then very glad and delighted was she.
And after a while, but how long I can't tell,
The little ones crept, one by one, from the shell;
And their mother was pleased, for she loved them all well.
She spread her soft wings on them all the day long,
To warm and to guard them, her love was so strong;
And her mate sat beside her, and sung her a song.
One day the young birds were all crying for food,
So off flew their mother away from her brood;
And up came some boys, who were wicked and rude.
So they pull'd the warm nest down away from the tree
And the little ones cried, but they could not get free;
So at last they all died away, one, two, and three.
But when back to the nest the poor mother did fly,
Oh, then she set up a most pitiful cry!
And she mourned a long while, and then lay down to die!
"Old Beggar Man"
I see an old man sitting there, His withered limbs are almost bare. And very hoary is his hair. (2) Old man, why are you sitting so? For very cold the wind doth blow: Why don't you to your cottage go? Ah, master, in the world so wide, I have no home wherein to hide, No comfortable fire-side. When I, like you, was young and gay, I'll tell you what I used to say, That I would nothing do but play. And so, instead of being taught Some useful business as I ought, To play about was all I sought. And now that I am old and grey, I wander on my lonely way, And beg my, bread from day to day, But oft I shake my hoary head, And many a bitter tear I shed, To think the useless life I've led.
