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Best Famous Ann Taylor Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Ann Taylor poems. This is a select list of the best famous Ann Taylor poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Ann Taylor poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Ann Taylor poems.

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by Ann Taylor | |

The Cut

 Well, what's the matter? there's a face
What ! has it cut a vein?
And is it quite a shocking place?
Come, let us look again.
I see it bleeds, but never mind That tiny little drop; I don't believe you'll ever find That crying makes it stop.
'Tis sad indeed to cry at pain, For any but a baby; If that should chance to cut a vein, We should not wonder, may be.
But such a man as you should try To bear a little sorrow: So run along, and wipe your eye, 'Twill all be well to-morrow.


by Ann Taylor | |

The Field Daisy

 I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring; 
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground,
And my stalk is cover'd flat
With a white and yellow hat.
Little Mary, when you pass Lightly o'er the tender grass, Skip about, but do not tread On my bright but lowly head, For I always seem to say, "Surely winter's gone away.
"


by Ann Taylor | |

About the Little Girl that Beat Her Sister

 Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear; 
I must not have such things as this,
And noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scratch and fight, That ought to be so mild; Oh! Mary, it's a shocking sight To see an angry child.
I can't imagine, for my part, The reason for your folly; She did not do you any hurt By playing with your dolly.
See, see, the little tears that run Fast from her watery eye: Come, my sweet innocent, have done, 'Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away, And make it up with kisses: And never turn a pretty play To such a pet as this is.


by Ann Taylor | |

For a Naughty Little Girl

 My sweet little girl should be cheerful and mild
She must not be fretful and cry! 
Oh! why is this passion? remember, my child, 
GOD sees you, who lives in the sky.
That dear little face, that I like so to kiss, How alter'd and sad it appears! Do you think I can love you so naughty as this, Or kiss you, all wetted with tears? Remember, though GOD is in Heaven, my love, He sees you within and without, And always looks down, from His glory above, To notice what you are about.
If I am not with you, or if it be dark, And nobody is in the way, His eye is as able your doings to mark, In the night as it is in the day.
Then dry up your tears and look smiling again, And never do things that are wrong; For I'm sure you must feel it a terrible pain, To be naughty and crying so long.
We'll pray, then, that GOD may your passion forgive, And teach you from evil to fly; And then you'll be happy as long as you live, And happy whenever you die.


by Ann Taylor | |

Learning to Go Alone

 Come, my darling, come away,
Take a pretty walk to-day; 
Run along, and never fear,
I'll take care of baby dear: 
Up and down with little feet,
That's the way to walk, my sweet.
Now it is so very near, Soon she'll get to mother dear.
There she comes along at last: Here's my finger, hold it fast: Now one pretty little kiss, After such a walk as this.


by Ann Taylor | |

The Babys Dance

 Dance little baby, dance up high,
Never mind baby, mother is by;
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There little baby, there you go;
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backwards and forwards, round and round;
Dance little baby, and mother shall sing,
With the merry coral, ding, ding, ding.


by Ann Taylor | |

The Chatterbox

 From morning till night it was Lucy's delight
To chatter and talk without stopping: 
There was not a day but she rattled away, 
Like water for ever a-dropping.
No matter at all if the subjects were small, Or not worth the trouble of saying, 'Twas equal to her, she would talking prefer To working, or reading, or playing.
You'll think now, perhaps, that there would have been gaps, If she had not been wonderfully clever: That her sense was so great, and so witty her pate, It would be forthcoming for ever; But that's quite absurd, for have you not heard That much tongue and few brains are connected? That they are supposed to think least who talk most, And their wisdom is always suspected? While Lucy was young, had she bridled her tongue, With a little good sense and exertion, Who knows, but she might now have been our delight, Instead of our jest and aversion?


by Ann Taylor | |

The Star

 Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are !
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the trav'ller in the dark, Thanks you for your tiny spark, He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep, And often thro' my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye, Till the sun is in the sky.
'Tis your bright and tiny spark, Lights the trav'ller in the dark : Tho' I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.


by Ann Taylor | |

The Vulgar Little Lady

 "But, mamma, now, " said Charlotte, "pray, don't you believe
That I'm better than Jenny, my nurse? 
Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve;
Her clothes are a thousand times worse.
"I ride in my coach, and have nothing to do, And the country folks stare at me so; And nobody dares to control me but you Because I'm a lady, you know.
"Then, servants are vulgar, and I am genteel; So really, 'tis out of the way, To think that I should not be better a deal Than maids, and such people as they.
" "Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied, "Belongs to no station or place; And there's nothing so vulgar as folly and pride, Though dress'd in red slippers and lace.
Not all the fine things that fine ladies possess Should teach them the poor to despise; For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress, That the truest gentility lies.
"


by Ann Taylor | |

The Washing and Dressing

 Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
And cry, and look sulky, and pout? 
To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss,
I can't even kiss her without.
You say you don't like to be wash'd and be dress'd, But would you not wish to be clean? Come, drive that long sob from your dear little breast, This face is not fit to be seen.
If the water is cold, and the brush hurts your head, And the soap has got into your eye, Will the water grow warmer for all that you've said? And what good will it do you to cry? It is not to tease you and hurt you, my sweet, But only for kindness and care, That I wash you, and dress you, and make you look neat, And comb out your tanglesome hair.
I don't mind the trouble, if you would not cry, But pay me for all with a kiss; That's right -- ­take the towel and wipe your wet eye, I thought you'd be good after this.