I am the dandelion,
Yellow, as you see,
And when the children see me
They shout for glee.
I grow by every wayside,
And when I've had my day I spread my wings so silvery And fly away.
When God made all the flowers
He gave each one a name; And when the others all had gone A little blue one came, And said, in trembling whisper, "My name has been forgot," Then the good Father called her Forget-me-not.
A fern the people call me,
I'm always clothed in green;
I live in every forest
You've seen me oft, I ween. Sometimes I leave the shadow To grow beside the way; You'll see me as you pass Some nice fine day.
I am the gay nasturtium,
I bloom in gardens fine;
Among the grander flowers
My slender stalk I twine.
Bright orange is my color
The eyes of all to please. I have a tube of honey
For all the bees.
FASHIONS AT THE COURT OF QUEEN FLORA.
"OH, pray, do you know of those wonderful styles
To be worn with the sweetest and rarest of smiles,
At Queen Flora's court, at receptions in spring,
When each one comes out in the latest new thing?
The modiste who designs all these beautiful things
Is called Fairy Nature, and her artists she brings
From the north and the south, and the east and the west,
And selects from all of their works what is best.
"Of her artists the greatest is named Mr. Sun,
His lights and his shadows can be equaled by none;
And his palette of colors, in rainbows and flowers,
And bright sunset clouds and the fragrant rose-bowers,
Have bewildered and baffled all mortals who tried
To copy his work, but at failure have sighed.
This artist provides cloth-of-gold for the queen;
And from dewdrops, makes diamonds, or emeralds green.
"In green satin tunics the Grasses appear,
While the Leaves change their robes several times in the
In the spring they wear shades of most delicate green,
But in autumn in crimson and yellows are seen.
The first little Snowdrops are wrapped in white down,
While the Crocus sprite ventures forth in a silk gown.
But the Tulips wear mantles of purple and gold,
Over robes of rich crimson, as the air is still cold.
"Pale mauve, or soft pink, is the Hyacinth's shade,
In the shape of a bell is her graceful skirt made,
With a girdle of green, and a hat of pale rose,
She's in truth quite a belle at the court, I suppose.
Rich, purple-hued velvets the Pansy maids wear
While cunning caps rest on their long yellow hair.
The tall graceful Lilies are dressed all in white,
With crowns of pure gold, most dazzlingly bright.
"Miss Daisy wears bodice of gold-colored silk,
And skirts slashed in points of gauze white as milk,
And sash of brown velvet with cap of the same,
In truth a dear daisy — in looks as in name.
In bright scarlet gowns all the Poppies appear,
With pale green-colored hose, and bonnets so queer!
They nod their small heads with expression so wise—
It would seem to be thought-but for sleep in their
eyes.
"At summer receptions the Rose sprites appear,
Soft satins, pink, white, or gold-colored they wear,
With bodices trimmed with pink moss buds and leaves,
And mantles of bright light that Mr. Sun weaves.
The Forget-me-nots dance in robes of pale blue,
And the Violets and Blue-bells wear this color too,
While the dear little Clover sprites in pink or white,
Play hide-and-seek with each other in shadow or light.
"When dust soils these toilets, lest their beauty should wane,
They are freshened and cleaned by one Mr. Rain;
And at evening receptions an artist most rare,
By name, a Miss Moonlight, arranges with care
And with marvelous skill all the costumes so bright;
And in her work both mortals and fairies delight;
For she softens gay colors and fair faces too,
And can sometimes make old things appear almost new.
"There are rich gallant lords, and fair ladies, of course,
At Queen Flora's court; and a well-ordered force
Of uniformed troops the Oaks and the Pines —
Who guard her dominions so rich in rare mines.
The Pines wear green uniforms all days in the year,
But the Oaks and the Maples in gay colors appear
At the autumn receptions, so brilliant and grand,
Ere King Winter has driven them out of the land."
- Lydia Hoyt Farmer.
WAS going down the walk,
So pleasant, cool, and shady;
Right in the middle of the path
I met a little lady.
I made to her my sweetest bow;
She only walked on faster.
I smiled, and said "Good-morning, ma'am!"
The moment that I passed her.
She never noticed me at all;
I really felt quite slighted.
I thought, "I'll follow you, I will,
Altho' I'm not invited."
Perhaps you think me very rude;
But then, she looked so funny
From head to foot all dressed in fur,
This summer day so sunny.
She didn't mind the heat at all,
But wrapped the fur around her,
And hurried on, as if to say,
"I'll 'tend to my own gown, sir!"
I followed her the whole way home;
Her home was in my garden,
Beneath my choicest vines - and yet,
She never asked my pardon.
I never heard her speak a word;
But once I heard the miller,
Coming down the sidewalk, say,
"There goes Miss Caterpillar!"
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