Читать книгу Mother Goose for Grown Folks - A. D. T. Whitney - Страница 9

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"Little Bo-Peep

Has lost her sheep,

And does n't know where to find 'em;

Let 'em alone,

And they 'll come home,

And bring their tails behind 'em."

Hope beckoned Youth, and bade him keep,

On Life's broad plain, his shining sheep,

And while along the sward they came,

He called them over, each by name;

This one was Friendship,—that was Health;

Another Love,—another Wealth;

One, fat, full-fleeced, was Social Station;

Another, stainless, Reputation;

In truth, a goodly flock of sheep,—

A goodly flock, but hard to keep.

Youth laid him down beside a fountain;

Hope spread his wings to scale a mountain;

And, somehow, Youth fell fast asleep,

And left his crook to tend the sheep:

No wonder, as the legend says,

They took to very crooked ways.

He woke—to hear a distant bleating,—

The faithless quadrupeds were fleeting!

Wealth vanished first, with stealthy tread,

Then Friendship followed—to be fed,—

And foolish Love was after led;

Fair Fame,—alas! some thievish scamp

Had marked him with his own black stamp!

And he, with Honor at his heels,

Was out of sight across the fields.

Health just hangs doubtful,—distant Hope

Looks backward from the mountain slope,—

And Youth himself—no longer Youth—

Stands face to face with bitter Truth.

Yet let them go! 'T were all in vain

To linger here in faith to find 'em;

Forward!—nor pause to think of pain,—

Till somewhere, on a nobler plain,

A surer Hope shall lead the train

Of joys withheld to come again

With golden fleeces trailed behind 'em!