CINDERELLA;

OR,

THE GLASS SLIPPER.

The brook that o'er its pebbly bed
So noisily doth go,

Is not so deep as the quiet stream,
With swift but silent flow.

The child that in the corner sits,
So patient and so shy,

May feel far more in its little heart
Than those who shout and cry.

If in the children's noisy throng
Such silent child should be,

O mother, tend it with double care,
And guard it carefully.

Your house may hold, in that little chair,

By the fireside sad and lone,

An angel come to you unaware,

A jewel all unknown.