THE BLACKBERRY GIRL
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Mabie, Hamilton Wright, Forbush, William Byron, and Hale, Edward Everett
"Why, Phebe, are you come so soon?
Where are your berries, child?
You cannot, sure, have sold them all,
You had a basket piled."
"No, mother, as I climbed the fence,
The nearest way to town,
My apron caught upon the stake,
And so I tumbled down.
"I scratched my arm and tore my hair,
But still did not complain;
And had my blackberries been safe,
Should not have cared a grain.
"But when I saw them on the ground.
All scattered by my side,
I picked my empty basket up,
And down I sat and cried.
"Just then a pretty little Miss
Chanced to be walking by;
She stopped, and looking pitiful,
She begged me not to cry.
"'Poor little girl, you fell,' said she,
'And must be sadly hurt;'
'Oh, no,' I cried; 'but see my fruit,
All mixed with sand and dirt.'
"'Well, do not grieve for that,' she said;
'Go home, and get some more,'
'Ah, no, for I have stripped the vines,
These were the last they bore.
"'My father, Miss, is very poor,
And works in yonder stall;
He has so many little ones,
He cannot clothe us all.
"'I always longed to go to church,
But never could I go;
For when I asked him for a gown,
He always answered, "No.
"'"There's not a father in the world
That loves his children more;
I'd get you one with all my heart,
But, Phebe, I am poor."