The Locust Mary's Page
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POEMS OF A NOTTINGHAM LACE-RUNNER
THE LOCUST
Dear Sally and Ann, I've a sad tale to tell;
I'm sure you'll be grieved when you hear: This moment my heart with sorrow doth swell,
And I scarce can help shedding a tear.
Just now, of an errand, you know I have run;
And as I through the Market-place came, I heard a young lady exclaim—what nice fun:
Pray, Eliza, do you like the game?
Very much, said Eliza, 'tis better, I'm sure,
Than running about till we're hot;
For the heat, love, you know, is so hard to endure;
And I'm glad this plaything we've got.
But what was the sight, that did so much delight;
Dear sisters, I tremble to tell;—
'Twas a poor little locust, pierc'd through with a pin,
That into their cruel hands fell.
The agonies keen, the poor insect did feel,
The young ladies did highly delight,
While quick it turn'd round on the sad galling pin,
And the thread it endeavour'd to bite.
For shame! let it go, then I eagerly cried:
Can you be so cruel as this?
And look at your bonnets and pretty white frocks,
And, remember, at school you're call'd Miss.
29
Contents
To a Lady who visited the author when she was in great distress 14
To a Lady who desired me to pray for the death of youngest child 17
Petition to the British Fair 19
On the Death of the Revd. Dr. Wylde, late of Nottingham 21
Lines, Written in July, on Widow Hind's garden, at Hints, in Staffordshire 26
Lines On the Death of a Gentleman of Basford 31
The Author to Her Infant Twins 35
Appendix: Mary Bailey's Obituary 37
Index of titles and first lines 42
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[Work in Progess]