"Dear me! what signifies a pin! I'll leave it on the floor;
My pincushion has others in, Mamma has plenty more:
A miser will I never be," Said little heedless Emily.
So tripping on to giddy play, She left the pin behind,
For Betty's broom to whisk away, Or some one else to find;
She never gave a thought, indeed,
To what she might to-morrow need.
Next day a party was to ride, To see an air-balloon!
And all the company beside Were dress'd and ready soon:
But she, poor girl, she could not stir,
For just a pin to finish her. 'Twas vainly now, with eye and hand, She did to search begin;
There was not onenot one, the band Of her pelisse to pin!
She cut her pincushion in two,
But not a pin had slidden through!
At last, as hunting on the floor, Over a crack she lay,
The carriage rattled to the door, Then rattled fast away.
Poor Emily! she was not in,
For want of just a single pin!
There's hardly anything so small, So trifling or so mean,
That we may never want at all, For service unforseen:
And those who venture wilful waste,
May woeful want expect to taste.
