human
Can you write me a poem about robin in the style of None?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about robin in the style of None:
  _Embellished with neat coloured Engravings._
_Price Six-pence._
_Price Six-pence._
See, see, what a sweet little prize I have found!
A Robin that lay half-benumbed on the ground:
Well hous'd and well fed, in your cage you will sing,
And make our dull winter as gay as the spring.
But stay,--sure 'tis cruel, with wings made to soar,
To be shut up in prison, and never fly more--
And I, who so often have long'd for a flight,
Shall I keep you prisoner?--mamma, is that right?
No, come, pretty Robin, I must set you free--
For your whistle, though sweet, would sound sadly to me.
What a little thing am I!
Hardly higher than the table;
I can eat, and play, and cry,
But to work I am not able.
Nothing in the world I know,
But mamma will try and show me;
Sweet mamma, I love her so,
She's so very kind unto me.
And she sets me on her knee
Very often for some kisses:
O! how good I'll try to be,
To such a dear mamma as this is!
Poor Susan was old and too feeble to spin,
Her forehead was wrinkled, her hands they were thin;
And she must have starv'd, as so many have done,
If she had not been bless'd with a good little son.
He went every morning, as gay as a lark,
And work'd all day long in the fields till 'twas dark,
Then came home again to his dear mother's cot,
And joyfully gave her the wages he got.
Oh then, was not little Jem happier far
Than naughty, and idle, and wicked boys are?
For, as long as he liv'd, 'twas his comfort and joy,
To think he'd not been an undutiful boy.
Whilst you are asleep, the poor little sweep
At the dawning of morning must go,
With brushes and bags, and cloth'd all in rags,
In the winter, thro' frost and thro' snow.
We're oblig'd, I am sure, for what they endure,
To save us from smoke and from fire;
And often I weep to think that the sweep
Must do such sad work for his hire.
Then we'll keep in mind, that the sweep's very kind,
For us such a service to do,
And never feel fright when he comes in our sight,
Because of his dark sooty hue.
Tumble down, tumble up, never mind it, my sweet,
No, no, never beat the poor ground;
'Twas your fault you could not stand straight on your feet,
Fall you will, if you twirl yourself round.
Oh dear! what a noise:--will a noise make it well?
Will crying wash bruises away?
Suppose that it should bleed a little, and swell,
'Twill all be gone down in a day.
That's right; be a man, love, and dry up your tears,
Come, smile, and I'll give you a kiss;
If you live in the world but a very few years,
You must bear greater troubles than this.
We'll go to the meadow, where cowslips do grow,
And buttercups looking as yellow as gold;
And the daisies and violets beginning to blow,
For it is a most beautiful sight to behold.
The honey-bee humming about there is seen,
The butterfly merrily skims it along;
The grasshopper chirps in the hedges so green,
And the linnet there sings us his liveliest song.
The birds and the insects are happy and gay;
The beasts of the field all are glad, and rejoice;
We, too, will be thankful to God every day,
And praise His great name in a loftier voice.
"You are old, Father William," a young man did say,
"And life must be hast'ning away;
You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death:
Now tell me the reason, I pray."
"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage:
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God,
And he hath not forgotten my age."
No glory I covet, nor riches I want,
Ambition is nothing to me;
The one thing I beg of kind heaven to grant,
Is a mind independent and free.
With passion unruffled, untainted with pride,
By reason my life let me square;
The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied;
And the rest is but folly and care.
The blessing which Providence kindly has lent
I'll justly and gratefully prize;
While sweet meditation and cheerful content
Shall make me both healthful and wise.
My Father, I thank thee for sleep,
For quiet and peaceable rest;
I thank thee for stooping to keep
An infant from being distrest.
My voice shall be lisping thy praise,
My heart would repay thee with love;
O teach me to walk in thy ways,
And fit me to see thee above.
As long as thou seest it right
That here upon earth I should stay,
I pray thee to guard me by night,
And help me to serve thee by day.
The sun that lately fill'd the skies
With all his sparkling rays,
Now hides his glories from our eyes,
And night comes on apace.
And now to him who made the Sun,
The world by day to light,
Who gave the gentler Moon to cheer
The still and gloomy night.
To him, O let my willing tongue
Send up the grateful strain;
And let my heart join with the song,
Or all my praise is vain.
When young, what honest triumph flush'd my breast,
This truth once known,--To bless, is to be blest!
I led the bending beggar on his way;
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-grey;)
Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.
As in his script I dropp'd my little store,
I griev'd to think that little was no more;
He breath'd his pray'r,--"Long may such goodness live!"
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give.
In this neat little house
Liv'd a poor little mouse,
He had plenty to eat every day;
Till, enticed by another,
Without leave of his mother,
He ventured one day out to play.
But the cat he soon spied,
As he walk'd the bank-side,
And soon of his folly repented.
She put out her paw,
Seized him with her claw,
And eat him before she relented.
Let gratitude in acts of goodness flow;
Our love to God, in love to man below.
Be this our joy--to calm the troubled breast,
Support the weak, and succour the distrest;
Direct the wand'rer, dry the widow's tear;
The orphan guard, the sinking spirits cheer.
Tho' small our pow'r to act, tho' mean our skill,
God sees the heart;--he judges by the will.
"Pray help me, young master," an old woman cried,
Who many an effort successlessly tried,
Across some rough pavement to go;
"For I'm very lame, and besides, almost blind,
And so, without danger, my way I can't find;
You'll help a poor woman, I know."
"With great pleasure I will," the little boy said,
"Come, lean on my shoulder, and be not afraid,
I'm able to help you, indeed;
And I'm sure I am willing, for I have been taught,
That if, my good dame, I would do as I ought,
I must help all I can, who're in need."
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Children in the Wood; with four coloured plates.
Cinderella, and the Pretty Glass Slipper; with four
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Entertaining History of Goody Two Shoes; with coloured
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Jack and the Bean Stalk; with coloured frontispiece.
Jack the Giant Killer; coloured frontispiece.
four coloured engravings.
Mother Bunch's Fairy Tales; coloured frontispiece.
Peter Puzzle-all's Riddle Book, an amusing collection
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Hood; with coloured frontispiece; and ten engravings
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Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor; with coloured
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Tom Thumb, and Puss in Boots; coloured frontispiece.
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Entertaining History of Whittington and his Cat; with
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