Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/126



But slates, and books, and maps appear, And many a dear one cries, "Oh, tell us where that river runs,    And where those mountains rise;

And where that blind, old monarch reign'd,   And who was king before, And stay a little after five, And tell us something more."

And then my little A * * * *† comes. And who unmoved can view, The glance of that imploring eye, "Oh, teach me something too."

And who would think amid the toil, (Tho' scarce a toil it be,) That through the door, the muses coy Should deign to peep at me.

Their look is somewhat cold and stern. As if it meant to say, "We did not know you kept a school,    We must have lost our way."

Their visit was but short indeed, As these light numbers show; But Oh! they bade me write with speed, My friend, I cannot go.