Page:Poems for Children Sigourney 1836.pdf/33

 

But mind, my friend, I do not send, A kiss to you, To grant a beau Such gifts, you know Would never do.

Now John, farewell, For truth to tell, To eat and doze, So takes my time I scarce can rhyme Or write in prose.

 

The rolling earth Your day of birth, Brings fair and fleeting, 