The Wrong Story.

A poem by H. P. Nichols

"My little Edward, how could you
Tell me a thing that was not true?
And make me feel thus grieved and sad
To find I have a child so bad?

"And then, to do a deed so mean,
And wish by that yourself to screen!
Would you have had me blame poor Tray,
And send him from the fire away?

"O! never, when you've disobeyed,
Or by your mischief trouble made,
Think that a wicked act is right
Because you hide it from my sight.

"It will be always seen by One,
Who knows each wrong that you have done;
And I shall know it too, no doubt,
For sin must always find you out.

"I cannot let you here to-day
With me and little sisters stay;
But you must go up stairs alone,
Till you a better boy have grown."