Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land.

So the little moments,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity.

So our little errors

Lead the soul away
From the path of virtue,
Far in sin to stray.

Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,

Help to make earth happy

Like the heaven above.

Julia Fletcher Carney

A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLY SENT TO A LADY

A 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 Soil,

A little Trade best fits a little Toil,
As my small Jar best fits my little Oil.

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

A little Hearth best fits a little Fire,
A little Chapel 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 Belly,
As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye,
This little Pipkin fits this little Jelly.

Robert Herrick

THE VIOLET

Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew;

Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its color bright and fair;

It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;

And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see;

That I may also learn to grow

In sweet humility.

DEEDS OF KINDNESS

Jane Taylor

Suppose the little Cowslip
Should hang its golden cup
And say, "I'm such a little flower
I'd better not grow up!"

How many a weary traveler
Would miss its fragrant smell,
How many a little child would grieve
To lose it from the dell!

Suppose the glistening Dewdrop
Upon the grass should say,
"What can a little dewdrop do?
I'd better roll away!"

The blade on which it rested,
Before the day was done,
Without a drop to moisten it,
Would wither in the sun.

Suppose the little Breezes,
Upon a summer's day,

Should think themselves too small to cool
The traveler on his way:

Who would not miss the smallest

And softest ones that blow,

And think they made a great mistake
If they were acting so?

How many deeds of kindness
A little child can do,

Although it has but little strength

And little wisdom too!

It wants a loving spirit,

Much more than strength, to prove

How many things a child may do

For others by its love.

THE LION AND THE MOUSE

A lion with the heat oppressed,
One day composed himself to rest:
But while he dozed as he intended,
A mouse, his royal back ascended;

Nor thought of harm, as Esop tells,
Mistaking him for someone else;

And traveled over him, and round him,
And might have left him as she found him
Had she not-tremble when you hear-
Tried to explore the monarch's ear!

Who straightway woke, with wrath immense,
And shook his head to cast her thence.
"You rascal, what are you about?"
Said he, when he had turned her out,
"I'll teach you soon," the lion said,
"To make a mouse-hole in my head!”
So saying, he prepared his foot
To crush the trembling tiny brute:
But she (the mouse) with tearful eye,
Implored the lion's clemency,
Who thought it best at last to give
His little prisoner a reprieve.

'Twas nearly twelve months after this,
The lion chanced his way to miss;
When pressing forward, heedless yet,
He got entangled in a net.

With dreadful rage, he stamped and tore,
And straight commenced a lordly roar;
When the poor mouse, who heard the noise,
Attended, for she knew his voice.

Then what the lion's utmost strength
Could not effect, she did at length;
With patient labor she applied
Her teeth, the network to divide;
And so at last forth issued he,
A lion, by a mouse set free.

Few are so small or weak, I
But may assist us in distress,

guess,

Nor shall we ever, if we're wise,
The meanest, or the least despise.

Jeffreys Taylor

BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES

Buttercups and daisies,

Oh, the pretty flowers; Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours, While the trees are leafless, While the fields are bare,

Buttercups and daisies

Spring up here and there.

Ere the snow-drop peepeth,
Ere the crocus bold,

Ere the early primrose

Opes its paly gold,

Somewhere on the sunny bank

Buttercups are bright; Somewhere midst the frozen grass

Peeps the daisy white.

Little hardy flowers,

Like to children poor,

Playing in their sturdy health

By their mother's door.

Purple with the north-wind,
Yet alert and bold;

Fearing not, and caring not,
Though they be a-cold!

What to them is winter!

What are stormy showers!