Passion and Penitence.

Here’s morning again, and a good fire-side,

And a breakfast so nice, in a basin so full;

How good, dear mamma, for my wants to provide,

I ought to be good too—but sure you are dull.

You don’t smile to meet me, nor call me your dear;

Nor place your arms round me so kind on your knee;

Nor give the sweet kiss as I climb up your chair:

Nay, sure that’s a frown: are you angry with me?

Oh! now I remember, quite naughty last night,

I left you in passion, nor came for a kiss;

I bounced from the room in vexation and spite:

Indeed, ’twas ungrateful, I did act amiss.

My fretful ill-temper, so naughty and rude,

To you was unkind, before God it was wrong!

I’m ashamed to come near, when I know I’m not good:

You ought not to kiss me for ever so long.

Yet, indeed, I do love you, and stoutly will try

To subdue ev’ry passion that moves me amiss:

I’ll pray God to pardon my sin, lest I die:

When you see my repentance, I know you will kiss.