THE PEACH

Mamma gave us a single peach, She shared it among seven; Now you may think that unto each But a small piece was given. Yet though each share was very small, We own’d, when it was eaten, Being so little for us all Did its fine flavour heighten. The tear was in our parent’s eye, It seem’d quite out of season; When we ask’d wherefore she did cry, She thus explain’d the reason:— “The cause, my children, I may say, Was joy, and not dejection; The peach, which made you all so gay, Gave rise to this reflection:

“It’s many a mother’s lot to share, Seven hungry children viewing, A morsel of the coarsest fare, As I this peach was doing.”