human
Can you write me a poem about milk, butterflies and time in the style of Fanny Burney?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about milk, butterflies and time in the style of Fanny Burney:
  Baby Ralph's Letter
Milk for Baby's Supper
Moll and Jane's Picnic
Rebie's New Home
Walter's Butterflies
Baby Ralph's Letter
Milk for Baby's Supper
Moll and Jane's Picnic
Rebie's New Home
Walter's Butterflies
Bright with smiles and wreathed with flowers.
Happy be thy morning hours;
Cloudless skies above thy head,
Fair the earth for thee to tread,
Songs of birds thy path attend;--
All the good that heaven can send,
Crown with joy thy morning hours,
Wreathed with smiles and bright with flowers.
Drop by drop the lit-tle rill
Feeds the lim-pid stream be-low,
Gleam-ing, spark-ling down the hill,
Till it joins the riv-er's flow.
Drop by drop the whole night long;
Drop by drop the long night through,
Sing-ing low and soft its song;
Leaps the rill, in meas-ure true.
Drop by drop like gems of light,
Danc-ing where the sun-beams play,
Grows the stream-let clear and bright,
Where the sweet ferns line the way.
Like a mol-ten sil-ver tide
Led by fai-ries, here and there;
Now by rug-ged moun-tain side;
Now by pas-ture green and fair.
LIT-TLE rob-in, wild bird,
Sing-ing sweet and blithe,
Care-less of Time's hour glass
And his crook-ed scythe,
Prod-i-gal of pleas-ure
In a harm-less way,
Greet-ing in the sun-shine
This thy hol-i-day.
When the or-phan chil-dren
Wan-dered in the wood,
We shall stillre-mem-ber
Thou wert kind and good;
As their cheeks grew pa-ler,
And with tears were wet,
Thou didst sprin-kle o'er them
Man-y a vi-o-let.
Cheer us in the au-tumn,
When the rains be-gin,
While the gay flow-ers with-er,
And the woods grow thin.
CLANG, cling, clang, cling!
Bel-lows, you must roar; and, an-vil, you must ring;
Ham-mer, you and I must work, for ding, dong, ding!
Must dress my Kate and ba-by, and bread for us must bring.
Yel-low, yel-low cow-slip,
Grow-ing in the grass,
Thou dost bloom so bright-ly,
Thou dost smell so sweet-ly,
That the ve-ry cat-tle
Light-ly o'er thee pass.
Yel-low, yel-low cow-slip,
Chil-dren gath-er thee
In the ear-ly sum-mer,
In the dew-y morn-ing,
When his nest be-side thee,
Leaves the lark so free.
Yel-low, yel-low cow-slip,
Shin-ing in the sun,
When the tall grass mead-ows
Yield un-to the mow-ers,
Then thy life is end-ed,
Pen-sive lit-tle one.
One day, all
in the sweet
spring weath-er,
Two lit-tle folk
went out to-geth-er.
Oh the bright May-day!
Sun was shin-ing,
birds were
sing-ing,
Flow-ers bloom-ing,
May-bells ring-ing!
Oh the glad May-day!
So they two went forth a May-ing,
Laugh-ing, dan-cing, sing-ing, say-ing
"Oh the bright May-day!
What care we for moth-er's warn-ing?
Who would bide at home this morn-ing?
Oh the glad May-day!"
SAD is the tale
I have to tell,
Of what a lit-tle
mouse be-fell.
"My darl-ing child,"
His moth-er said,
"There are two things
That you must dread.
One is the mon-ster
called a cat;
And one a trap.
Ne'er go
near that,
No mat-ter how the cheese may smell:
You'll rue the day. Mark
my words well."
And mous-ey lis-tened to her say.
Had he but heed-ed! Well-a-day!
That ver-y night he smelled some cheese.
Quoth he, "What o-dors sweet are these?
I'll go and see: per-chance the cook
Has dropped a bit. Here's for a look!"
A-las! a-las! dear chil-dren all,
He dis-o-beyed. Be-hold his fall.
He saw the trap, with bits of cheese.
"I'll on-ly take just one of these,--
A sin-gle one, not an-y more."
Click went the spring; down fell the door!
How sleek looks puss-y! How well fed!
Poor mous-ey's moth-er weeps in bed.
"O Ro-ver! I love you,"
Young Mas-ter Ber-tie said.
To prove his words were true,
He hugged the dog's rough head.
Ro-ver knew not one half
His lit-tle mas-ter said;
But when he heard him laugh,
He quick-ly raised his head.
He loved to run a-bout
A-mong the lambs and sheep,
Which lay in groups a-bout,
Ap-pa-rent-ly a-sleep.
He'd leap a five-barred gate,
And then, with con-scious pride,
For Bertie's com-ing wait
Up-on the oth-er side.
"Ho! mas-ter ba-by boy.
Where are you go-ing?
Dark are the win-try skies:
Soon 'twill be snow-ing.
Back to the nur-se-ry,
Where the fire's
stamps his foot.
"No! I are doe-ing
Down to my busi-ness.
A big boy I'm drow-ing.
Just where my pa-pa does,
Dat's where I'm doe-ing."
THERE was a
little lad
Whose name was Tad,
Down by the sea.
"A play-fellow I see,
Com-ing to play
with me."
But soon he
changed his cry:
The tears came
in his eye.
cried; "let go!
You don't play
fair, you know.
O mam-my,
quick! Boo-hoo!
He'll bite my
finger through!"
A LIT-TLE girl
Read in her book,
How a wick-ed boy
A wild bird took
From out its nest
In the green-wood tree.
A cap-tive now
'Tis forced to be,
And flut-ters its poor
wings all day long,
And beats the bars of its cage so strong.
"Poor lit-tle bird!"
She soft-ly cried;
Then on her head
Her hood she tied,
Took down the cage
Of her own bird,
Opened the door,
With joy-ous word.
quoth she,
"Back to your home in the green-wood tree."
The glad bird flew,
Far out of sight,
In heav-ens blue.
The wee girl watched
With won-der-ing eye,
Till it had fad-ed
In the sky,
Then sat her down, and cried, "Boo-hoo!
My bird is gone! What shall I do?"
Her pin-a-fore
With tears was wet:
"My bird a-gain,
At last she raised
Her weep-ing eye,
And there at hand,
What should she spy
But bird-ie hop-ping in
his door,
Tired of his freedom,
back once more.
'Tis al-most nine.
The birds all sing,
The sun does shine.
To school must go:
I don't see why,
We hate it so.
I hate those let-ters. They twist and turn.
There's no use try-ing: I'll nev-er learn.
Hur-rah! hur-rah!
At last it's two!
I am so glad!
What shall we do?
Come, Doll, let's run.
I'll nev-er go,
When I get big,
To school, I know;
But ev-er-y min-ute of the day
I'll spend just as I like, in play."
"IS she coming to-night, mamma?" asked Marion.
"Rebie'll be our new sister; won't she?" said Elvie.
"'Twas only a bird," insists the old man.
"Well, I wish I had that one again."
"And I wish I could open all these cages."
"_Miss Nett_, Baby Bell tiss you."
"As often as you and she wish," said papa.
"Don't you want to go?" asked the old sailor.
"She's afraid since papa was drowned."
"Don't you go to learnin' Frankie any bad ways," said Uncle Sol,
"What is it?" he asked, in a hushed voice.
morning. Think she'll be better then."
"MY OWN PAPA AND MAMMA,--Does you want to hear 'bout me? You
whistled--and I cried hard. Then Auntie May put something in my
"Guess we'll go to Boston," answered Abe. And little Andy echoed,
He is careful not to make a bit of noise--the sly fellow.
"Dess Dolly'll put on drandma's tean tap."
"Where's my work?" asked grandma. "Has Dolly been here?"
"Dolly's done 'way," answered a voice behind the clock.
LITTLE Hattie Vaughn was playing in the back yard, when she saw a
"AUNTIE," said Walter, "is't naughty to catch butterflies?"
"But is't _wicked_ to kill them?" persisted Walter.
generally went out near the water.
"No. Dot wants it," replied the child stoutly.
"Well, you can't have it. So hand it along."
"Le's have my shovel," interrupted Ivan.
It was but a short distance to higher ground, but he had to step
"Jamie this time, 'cause he's lame," Hal said when his wet face
appeared. "Then he can see to the little ones."
"EVERY one of us are here, Aunt Kate. Are you ready?"
"Out with Dan."
"Pomp and I are going to take a walk."
"Of course, Chester, when Pomp saved my life when I was a baby."
"Mother Hubbard, for I ain't a baby."
Ruby gave her brother many kisses, and then stood and waved her
"Blue," answered Dell.
"There, now they can see just as well as ever."
"Thank you ever so much!" exclaimed both girls at once.
ROSE was out in the garden with mamma. Rose ran here and there,
"Poor child! Perhaps she is hungry," said mamma, rising quickly.
"I'll give her mine," whispered Rose.
"I wish I knew where she lived," said Rose.
"I will inquire. We may be able to help her."
Out of the wild north-east
The snow comes fly-ing;
O-ver our chim-ney tops
The wind goes sigh-ing.
Up, lag-gard birds, a-way,
On swift wings go-ing,
To where, on south-ern hills,
A-far from win-ter's chills,
Soft winds are blow-ing.
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