She gathered herself up, and ran,
Yet heeded not whither or whence,
  To flee from the roar,
  That continued to pour
Behind her, from over the fence.

In passing a slope near the pool,
She slipped and rolled down to its brim;
  The geese gave a shout,
  And at length hissed her out
Of the bounds, where they’d gathered to swim.

In turning a corner, she met
Abruptly, the horns of a cow
  That mooed, while the cur,
  At her heels, turned from her,
And aimed at Miss Vain his “bow-wow.”

Then Vivy’s bright ribbons and skirt,
As she flew, flirted high on the wind;
  The children at play,
  Paused to see one so gay,
And all in a flutter behind.

A group of glad schoolboys came by: 
Said they, “So it seems, that to-day,
  Miss Vain carries marks
  At which the dog barks,
And that make sober Long-Ears to bray.”

And when, all bedraggled and pale,
Poor Vivy approached her own door,
  She went, swift and straight
  As a dart, through the gate,
Abhorring the gay gear she wore.

She sat down, and thought of the scene
With humiliation and tears: 
  The words, and the noise
  Of the brutes and the boys
Were echoing still in her ears.

She reasoned, and came at the cause,
Resolving that cause to remove;
  And thence, her desire
  Was for modest attire,
And her heart and her mind to improve.

And soon, all who knew her before
Remarked on the change and the gain
  In mind, and in mien,
  And in dress, that were seen
In the once flashy Miss Vivy Vain.

=The Lost Kite=

“My kite! my kite!  I’ve lost my kite! 
Oh! when I saw the steady flight,
With which she gained her lofty height,
How could I know, that letting go
That naughty string, would bring so low
My pretty, buoyant, darling kite,
To pass for ever out of sight?

“A purple cloud was sailing by,
With silver fringes, o’er the sky;
And then I thought, it seemed so nigh,
I’d make my kite go up and light
Upon its edge, so soft and bright;
To see how noble, high and proud
She’d look, while riding on a cloud!

“As near her shining mark she drew
I clapped my hands; the line slipped through
My silly fingers; and she flew,
Away! away! in airy play,
Right over where the water lay! 
She veered and fluttered, swung and gave
A plunge, then vanished with the wave!

“I never more shall want to look
On that false cloud, or babbling brook;
Nor e’er to feel the breeze that took
My dearest joy, to thus destroy
The pastime of your happy boy. 
My kite! my kite! how sad to think
She flew so high, so soon to sink!”

“Be this,” the mother said, and smiled,
“A lesson to thee, simple child! 
And when by fancies vain and wild,
As that which cost the kite that’s lost,
The busy brain again is crossed,
Of shining vapor then beware,
Nor trust thy joys to fickle air.