In many a lecture, many a book,
    You all have heard, you all have read,
  That time is precious.  Of its use
    Much has been written, much been said.

  The accomplishments which gladden life,
    As music, drawing, dancing, are
  Encroachers on our precious time;
    Their praise or dispraise I forbear.

  They should be practis’d or forborne,
    As parents wish, or friends desire: 
  What rests alone in their own will
    Is all I of the young require.

  There’s not a more productive source
    Of waste of time to the young mind
  Than dress; as it regards our hours
    My view of it is now confin’d.

  Without some calculation, youth
    May live to age and never guess,
  That no one study they pursue
    Takes half the time they give to dress.

  Write in your memorandum-book
    The time you at your toilette spend;
  Then every moment which you pass,
    Talking of dress with a young friend: 

  And ever when your silent thoughts
    Have on this subject been intent,
  Set down as nearly as you can
    How long on dress your thoughts were bent.

  If faithfully you should perform
    This task, ’twould teach you to repair
  Lost hours, by giving unto dress
    Not more of time than its due share.

THE FAIRY

  Said Ann to Matilda, “I wish that we knew
  If what we’ve been reading of fairies be true. 
  Do you think that the poet himself had a sight of
  The fairies he here does so prettily write of? 
  O what a sweet sight if he really had seen
  The graceful Titania, the Fairy-land Queen! 
  If I had such dreams, I would sleep a whole year;
  I would not wish to wake while a fairy was near.—­
  Now I’ll fancy that I in my sleep have been seeing
  A fine little delicate lady-like being,
  Whose steps and whose motions so light were and airy,
  I knew at one glance that she must be a fairy. 
  Her eyes they were blue, and her fine curling hair
  Of the lightest of browns, her complexion more fair
  Than I e’er saw a woman’s; and then for her height,
  I verily think that she measur’d not quite
  Two feet, yet so justly proportion’d withal,
  I was almost persuaded to think she was tall. 
  Her voice was the little thin note of a sprite—­
  There—­d’ye think I have made out a fairy aright? 
  You’ll confess, I believe, I’ve not done it amiss.” 
  “Pardon me,” said Matilda, “I find in all this
  Fine description, you’ve only your young sister Mary
  Been taking a copy of here for a fairy.”

CONQUEST OF PREJUDICE

  Unto a Yorkshire school was sent
    A Negro youth to learn to write,
  And the first day young Juba went
    All gaz’d on him as a rare sight.