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The Pin

 "Dear me! what signifies a pin! 
I'll leave it on the floor;
My pincushion has others in,
Mamma has plenty more: 
A miser will I never be," 
Said little heedless Emily.
So tripping on to giddy play, She left the pin behind, For Betty's broom to whisk away, Or some one else to find; She never gave a thought, indeed, To what she might to-morrow need.
Next day a party was to ride, To see an air-balloon! And all the company beside Were dress'd and ready soon: But she, poor girl, she could not stir, For just a pin to finish her.
'Twas vainly now, with eye and hand, She did to search begin; There was not one­not one, the band Of her pelisse to pin! She cut her pincushion in two, But not a pin had slidden through! At last, as hunting on the floor, Over a crack she lay, The carriage rattled to the door, Then rattled fast away.
Poor Emily! she was not in, For want of just­a single pin! There's hardly anything so small, So trifling or so mean, That we may never want at all, For service unforseen: And those who venture wilful waste, May woeful want expect to taste.

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