er lecture, John, I will,
When such sad things I hear.
But talk not now of what is past;
The moments fly away too fast,
Though endlessly they seem to last
To that poor soul in fear.

BROTHER

Well, soon (I say) I'll let it loose;
But, sister, you talk like a goose,
There's no soul in a fly.

SISTER

It has a form and fibres fine,
Were temper'd by the hand divine
Who dwells beyond the sky.
Look, brother, you have hurt its wing--
And plainly by its fluttering
You see it's in distress,
Gay painted Coxcomb, spangled Beau,
A Butterfly is call'd you know,
That's always in full dress:
The finest gentleman of all
Insects he is--he gave a Ball,
You know the Poet wrote.
Let's fancy this the very same,
And then you'll own you've been to blame
To spoil his silken coat.

BROTHER

Your dancing, spangled, powder'd Beau,
Look, through the air I've let him go:
And now we're friends again.
As sure as he is in the air,
From this time, Ann, I will take care,
And try to be humane.

THE PEACH

Mamma gave us a single Peach,
She shar'd it among seven;
Now you may think that unto each
But a small piece was given.

Yet though each share was very small,
We own'd when it was eaten,
Being so little for us all
Did its fine flavour heighten.

The tear was in our parent's eye,
It seem'd quite out of season;
When we ask'd wherefore she did cry,
She thus explain'd the reason.

"The cause, my children, I may say,
Was joy, and not dejection;
The Peach, which made you all so gay,
Gave rise to this reflection:

"It's many a mother's lot to share,
Seven hungry children viewing,
A morsel of the coarsest fare,
As I this Peach was doing."

CHUSING A NAME

I have got a new-born sister;
I was nigh the first that kiss'd her.
When the nursing woman brought her
To Papa, his infant daughter,
How Papa's dear eyes did glisten!--
She will shortly be to christen:
And Papa has made the offer,
I shall have the naming of her.

Now I wonder what would please her,
Charlotte, Julia, or Louisa.
Ann and Mary, they're too common;
Joan's too formal for a woman;
Jane's a prettier name beside;
But we had a Jane that died.
They would say, if 'twas Rebecca,
That she was a little Quaker,
Edith's pretty, but that looks
Better in old English books;
Ellen's left off lon