by Hannah Flagg Gould
Oh! sister, he is so swift and tall,
Though I want the ride, he will spoil it all,
For, when he sets out, he will let me fall,
And give me a bump, I know!
Mamma, what was it I heard you say,
About the world's hobbies, the other day,
How some would get on and gallop away,
To end with an overthrow?
I said, little prattler, the world was a race,
That many would mount with a smile on the face,
And ride to their ruin, or fall in disgrace:
That him, who was deaf to fear,
And did not look out for a rein or a guide,
His courser might cast on the highway side,
In the mud, rocks and brambles, to end his ride,
Perchance with a sigh and a tear!
Oh! sister, sister! I fear to try;
For Brutus's back is so live and high!
It creeps at my touch -- and he winks his eye --
I'm sure he is going to jump!
Come! dear mother, tell us some more
About the world's ride, as you did before,
Who helped it up -- and all how it bore
The fall, and got over the bump!
Source:Poems By Miss H. F. Gould. Volume 1.
Hilliard, Gray, & Co., Boston