The dragging string had made him trip,
  And bump! bump! went his head;—­
The teeth had struck and cut his lip,
  And tears and blood were shed.

His aching wounds he meekly bore;
  But with a swelling heart
He heard the carriage from the door,
  With all but him, depart.

This grievous lesson taught him care,
  And gave his mind a spring;
For he resolved no more to bear
  The name of JEMMY STRING!

=The Caterpillar=

“Don’t kill me!” Caterpillar said,
  As Charles had raised his heel
Upon the humble worm to tread,
  As though it could not feel.

“Don’t kill me! and I’ll crawl away
  To hide awhile, and try
To come and look, another day,
  More pleasing to your eye.

“I know I’m now among the things
  Uncomely to your sight;
But by and by on splendid wings
  You’ll see me high and light!

“And then, perhaps, you may be glad
  To watch me on the flower;
And that you spared the worm you had
  To-day within your power!”

Then Caterpillar went and hid
  In some secreted place,
Where none could look on what he did
  To change his form and face.

And by and by, when Charles had quite
  Forgotten what I’ve told,
A Butterfly appeared in sight,
  Most beauteous to behold.

His shining wings were trimmed with gold,
  And many a brilliant dye
Was laid upon their velvet fold,
  To charm the gazing eye!

Then, near as prudence would allow,
  To Charles’s ear he drew
And said, “You may not know me, now
  My form and name are new!

“But I’m the worm that once you raised
  Your ready foot to kill! 
For sparing me, I long have praised,
  And love and praise you still.

“The lowest reptile at your feet,
  When power is not abused,
May prove the fruit of mercy sweet,
  By being kindly used!”

=The Mocking Bird=

  A Mocking Bird was he,
  In a bushy, blooming tree,
Imbosomed by the foliage and flower. 
  And there he sat and sang,
  Till all around him rang,
With sounds, from out the merry mimic’s bower.

  The little satirist
  Piped, chattered, shrieked, and hissed;
He then would moan, and whistle, quack, and caw;
  Then, carol, drawl, and croak,
  As if he’d pass a joke
On every other winged one he saw.

  Together he would catch
  A gay and plaintive snatch,
And mingle notes of half the feathered throng. 
  For well the mocker knew,
  Of every thing that flew,
To imitate the manner and the song.

  The other birds drew near,
  And paused awhile to hear
How well he gave their voices and their airs. 
  And some became amused;
  While some, disturbed, refused
To own the sounds that others said were theirs.

  The sensitive were shocked,
  To find their honors mocked
By one so pert and voluble as he;
  They knew not if ’t was done
  In earnest or in fun;
And fluttered off in silence from the tree.