by Ann Taylor
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kiss
Your little sister dear;
I must not have such things as this,
And noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scratch and fight,
That ought to be so mild;
Oh! Mary, it’s a shocking sight
To see an angry child.
I can’t imagine, for my part,
The reason for your folly;
She did not do you any hurt
By playing with your dolly.
See, see, the little tears that run
Fast from her watery eye:
Come, my sweet innocent, have done,
‘Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away,
And make it up with kisses:
And never turn a pretty play
To such a pet as this is.
End of the poem by Ann Taylor. Children’s poems. Children’s Poetry. Poetry for kids and adults. Classic English poems, English poetry. Poetry of England.
Poems by Ann Taylor, Ann Taylor’s poems
Poetry in Russian (you’d to have to switch the language to see the content)
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