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Jane Taylor - The Disappointme
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In tears to her mother poor Harriet came, 
  Let us listen to hear what she says:
"O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain, 
  We cannot go out in the chaise. 

"All the week I have long`d for this holiday so, 
  And fancied the minutes were hours; 
And now that I`m dress`d and all ready to go, 
  Do look at those terrible showers! " 

"I`m sorry, my dear, " her kind mother replied, 
  The rain disappoints us to-day; 
But sorrow still more that you fret for a ride, 
  In such an extravagant way. 

"These slight disappointments are sent to prepare
  For what may hereafter befall; 
For seasons of real disappointment and care, 
  Which commonly happen to all. 

"For just like to-day with its holiday lost,
  Is life and its comforts at best: 
Our pleasures are blighted, our purposes cross`d, 
  To teach us it is not our rest. 

"And when those distresses and crosses appear, 
  With which you may shortly be tried, 
You`ll wonder that ever you wasted a tear
  On merely the loss of a ride. 

"But though the world`s pleasures are fleeting and vain, 
  Religion is lasting and true; 
Real pleasure and peace in her paths you may gain, 
  Nor will disappointment ensue. "
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