Puslapio vaizdai
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ERRATA.

P. 13. for fteaming read freaming.
p. 18. for fumpt read flump.
p. 22. for draughty read droughty.
P. 33. for pafs' read pass'd.

p. 36. for pow'rful read powerful.
p. 44. for then read than
p. 46. for hand read hands.
p. 53. line laft, add I.

p. 60. for neighbor read neighbour.

p. 78. fecond ftanza, line 5. for He read She. p. 81. for fhadow read fhadows.

POETRY

FOR

CHILDREN.

THE BLIND BOY.

OH fay what is that thing call'd light
Which I muft ne'er enjoy;
What are the bleffings of the fight,
Oh tell a poor blind boy.

You talk of wondrous things you fee; You fay the fun shines bright;

I feel him warm, but how can he

Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I fleep or play;
And could I always keep awake
With me 'twere always day.

With heavy fighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe,
But fure with patience I can bear
A lofs I ne'er can know.

Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy;
While thus I fing I am a king
Although a poor blind boy.

The COMPLAINTS of the POOR.

AND wherefore do the Poor complain?
The rich man afk'd of me,-

Come walk abroad with me, I faid,
And I will answer thee.

'Twas evening, and the frozen streets Were cheerless to behold,

And we were wrapt and coated well, And yet we were a-cold.

We met an old bare-headed man,
His locks were few and white,
I afk'd him what he did abroad
In that cold winter's night:

'Twas bitter keen indeed, he said,
But at home no fire had he,
And therefore he had come abroad
To ask for charity.

We met a young bare-footed child,
And the begg'd loud and bold,

I afk'd her what fhe did abroad
When the wind it blew fo cold;

She faid her father was at home
And he lay fick a-bed,

And therefore was it fhe was fent

Abroad to beg for bread.

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buk tubusblick has just truck two, And yonder is the moon."

At this the father rais'd his hook
And fnapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe,
With many a wanton ftroke
Her foot diperle the powd'ry fnow

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like fmoke.

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