Little Girls Must Not Fret
What is it that makes little Emily cry?
Come then, let mamma wipe the tear from her eye:
There -- lay down your head on my bosom -- that's right,
And now tell mamma what's the matter to-night.
What! Emmy is sleepy, and tired with play?
Come, Betty, make haste then, and fetch her away;
But do not be fretful, my darling; you know
Mamma cannot love little girls that are so.
She shall soon go to bed and forget it all there
Ah! here's her sweet smile come again, I declare:
That's right, for I thought you quite naughty before.
Good night, my dear child, but don't fret any more.
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Comments about this poem (Little Girls Must Not Fret by Jane Taylor )
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.45, Monk E. Biz
- A Poets View Of Modern Life, Yohan Confectioner
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.44, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.43, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ v.42, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.41, Monk E. Biz
- Conflict, SALINI NAIR
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.40, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.39, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ v.38, Monk E. Biz
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