Blogs and book

If you come to that,
Why none of us are used to growing old,
It takes us by surprise, as one may say,
That work, when we begin 't, and yet 't is work
That all of us must do.
_Mrs. G_. Nay, nay, not all.
_Mrs. J_. I ask your pardon, neighbour; you be right. Not all.
_Mrs. G_. And my sweet maid scarce three months dead.
_Mrs. J_. I ask your pardon truly.
_Mrs. G_. No, my dear,
Thou'lt never see old days. I cannot stint
To fret, the maiden was but twelve years old,
So toward, such a scholar.
_Mrs. S._ Ay, when God,
That knows, comes down to choose, He'll take the best.
_Mrs. T._ But I'm right glad you came, it pleases _them_.
My son, that loves his book, 'Mother,' said he,
'Go to the Reading when you have a chance,
For there you get a change, and you see life.'
But Reading or no Reading, I am slow
To learn. When parson after comes his rounds,
'Did it,' to ask with a persuading smile,
'Open your mind?' the woman doth not live
Feels more a fool.


Pages:
36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60