You're shut up in spite,
For the blue sky is bright.
To more credulous people your warnings pray tel.
I'll away to the fair !--Good night, pimpernel!”
“Stay at home!” quoth the flower. “In sooth, not I!
I'll don my straw hat with a silken tie;
O'er my neck so fair
I'll a 'kerchief wear,
White, chequered with pink;
And then, let me think-
I'll consider my gown, for I'd fain look well.”
So saying, she stepped o'er the pimpernel.
Now, the wise little flower, wrapped safe from harm,
Sat fearlessly waiting the coming storm,
Just peeping between
leaves of green,
Lay folded up tight;
Her red rope so bright,
Though 'broidered with purple and starred with gold,
No eye might its bravery there behold.
The fair maiden then donned her best array,
And forth to the festival hied
But scarce had she gone
Ere the storm came on,
And, 'mid thunder and rain,
She cried oft and again,
“Oh, would I had heeded that boding flower,
And were safe at home from the pelting shower!"
Now, maidens, the tale that I tell would say,
Don't don fine clothes on a doubtful day!
Nor ask advice when, like many more,
Your resolve was taken some time before.
LONDON : PRINTED BY J. O. CLARKE, 3, RAQUEF COURT, AND 121, FLEET STREET.