Edouard Cortes Art
A True Story Little Ann and her mother were walking one day The ladies in feathers and jewels were seen, Little Ann by her mother walk'd silent and sad, "Mamma," said the child, "see that carriage so fair, "You say GOD is kind to the folks that are good, "Look there, little girl," said her mother, "and see "All pale is her face, and deep sunk is her eye, 'Dear ladies,' she cries, and the tears trickle down, 'My father and mother are long ago dead, 'A fever I caught, which was terrible bad, 'And now that I'm better, yet feeble and faint, 'Some will not attend to my pitiful call, 'Then ladies, dear ladies, your pity bestow:' "Ah! see, little girl," then her mother replied, "This poor little beggar is hungry and cold, "Your house and its comforts, your food and your friends, "A coach, and a footman, and gaudy attire,
ANN Taylor
Through London's wide city so fair,
And business obliged them to go by the way
That led them through Cavendish Square.
And as they pass'd by the great house of a Lord,
A beautiful chariot there came,
To take some most elegant ladies abroad,
Who straightway got into the same.
The chariot was painted all o'er,
The footmen behind were in silver and green,
The horses were prancing before.
A tear trickled down from her eye,
Till her mother said, "Ann, I should be very glad
To know what it is makes you cry. "
All cover'd with varnish and gold,
Those ladies are riding so charmingly there
While we have to walk in the cold.
But surely it cannot be true;
Or else I am certain, almost, that He would
Give such a fine carriage to you. "
What stands at that very coach door;
A poor ragged beggar, and listen how she
A halfpenny tries to implore.
And her hands look like skeleton's bones;
She has got a few rags, just about her to tie,
And her naked feet bleed on the stones. "
'Relieve a poor beggar, I pray;
I've wander'd all hungry about this wide town,
And not ate a morsel to-day.
My brother sails over the sea,
And I've scarcely a rag, or a morsel of bread,
As plainly, I'm sure, you may see.
But no nurse or physic had I;
An old dirty shed was the house that I had,
And only on straw could I lie.
And famish'd, and naked, and cold,
I wander about with my grievous complaint,
And seldom get aught but a scold.
Some think me a vagabond cheat;
And scarcely a creature relieves me, of all
The thousands that traverse the street.
Just then a tall footman came round,
And asking the ladies which way they would go,
The chariot turn'd off with a bound.
"How foolish those murmurs have been;
You have but to look on the contrary side,
To learn both your folly and sin.
No mother awaits her return;
And while such an object as this you behold,
Your heart should with gratitude burn.
'Tis favour in GOD to confer,
Have you any claim to the bounty He sends,
Who makes you to differ from her?
Give little true joy to the breast;
To be good is the thing you should chiefly desire,
And then leave to GOD all the rest. "
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