"He brought me berries from the vine,
He gathered daisies nice and sweet;
But on the flowers I could not look,
The blackberries I could not eat.
"Oh, turn, I said, and drive me home,
Each object gives my heart a pain,
And let me in my chamber hide,
And never see a coach again."
Now, dear Melinda, do you wish
That you was Jennie Wright, to ride
In a new coach whene'er you please,
And have a servant at your side?
MELINDA.
Oh, no, indeed; for now, mamma,
I see how wicked I have been;
You spoke most truly when you said
That envy was an odious sin.
Poor Jennie Wright! how very strange
That I should think her proud or vain;
How wicked and unkind it was
For me to envy little Jane.
I shall feel thankful I can walk
Whene'er I chance a coach to meet;
Nor envy those again who ride,
So long as I can use my feet.
