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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