BUSILY, busily, Turn the sails Never they linger, ansly wolf Unless the wind fails. Coal Small must the breeze be They cannot use; Who ever saw them Their labour refuse? THE TOWN PUMP. A PUMP in olden time, so says tradition, "With wide-spread hands I cry by night and day, Draw near, poor thirsty soul, and drink thy fill: Boys, girls, and sheep and cattle-all are coming. Well-let them freely come, however pressing, The wine of health, and strength, and peace, is-WATER. BE KIND TO THE POOR. WE should always help the poor, Gladly, freely, when we can, And should never shut the door 'Gainst a needy aged man. See, the dust upon his feet, Hasten not, the day is young; So you're up and off once more, God, then, speed you on your way; And when next you pass our door, Mind you call and say good day. S. W. P. |