130 LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. Your madcap fancy runs too riot, girl. We must shut up your books of Botany, -Will you shut The book of nature, too? for it is that Poor Red Riding Hood! We had forgotten her; yet mark, dear madam, Thus it is: Mere children read such stories literally, A moral from the fiction. In a word, The wolf that you must guard against is—Love. —I thought love was an infant; "toujours enfant.” -The world and love were young together, child, And innocent—alas! time changes all things. -True, I remember, love is now a man. And, the song says, But how a wolf? (6 a very saucy one" 131 LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. In ravenous appetite, Unpitying and unsparing, passion is oft A beast of prey. As the wolf to the lamb, I shall remember, For now I see the moral. Trust me, madam, -You'll do wisely. -Nor e'er in field or forest, plain or pathway, Or whisper that he'll meet me. 132 LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. Nor, in my grandam's cottage, nor elsewhere, Will I e'er lift the latch for him myself, Or bid him pull the bobbin. Well, my dear, You've learned your lesson. Yet one thing, my mother, Somewhat perplexes me. I will explain. Say what, my love, This wolf, the story goes, Deceived poor grandam first, and ate her up: What is the moral here? Have all our grandmas Been first devoured by love? -Let us go in; The air grows cool-you are a forward chit. THE WITHERED ROSEBUD. BY J K. MITCHELL. Ан, why does this rose-bud more beautiful seem, 'Tis because the sweet floweret had lingered awhile On the bosom of beauty and youth, Had borrowed her lustre, had stolen her smile, And came to me breathing her truth. And now, though its leaflets are gone to decay, And tints from the rainbow are fading away, "T will still be of roses the gem. Like its fragrance, still lingering, fond memory the while, Will couple this blossom with thee, And soothe by recalling the look and the smile That came with the rose-bud to me. |