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Charles Lamb (Чарльз Лэм)


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 owned when it was eaten,
Being so little for us all
 Did its fine flavour heighten.

The tear was in our parent's eye,
 It seemed quite out of season;
When we asked wherefore she did cry,
 She thus explained 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."



Charles Lamb's other poems:
  1. The Force of Habit
  2. The Boy and the Skylark
  3. The Young Letter Writer
  4. Breakfast
  5. Discontent and Quarrelling


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