SUPPOSE.

UPPOSE the little cowslip

SUP

Should hang its golden cup, And say, "I'm such a tiny flower,

I'd better not grow up";

How many a weary traveler

Would miss its fragrant smell;

And many a little child would grieve To lose it from the dell.

Suppose the little breezes,
Upon a summer's day,

Should think themselves too small
To cool the traveler on his way;

Who would not miss the smallest
And softest ones that blow,

And think they made a great mistake,
If they were talking so?

Suppose the little dewdrop

Upon the grass should say,

"What can a little dewdrop do?

I'd better roll away.”

The blade on which it rested,

Before the day was done,

Without a drop to moisten it,

Would wither in the sun.

How many deeds of kindness

A little child can do,

Although it has but little strength

And little wisdom, too!

It wants a loving spirit,

Much more than strength, to prove

How many things a child

may do

For others by its love.

-Selected.

THE ARBUTUS.

T trailed on a sheltered hillside

I in a grew woodland fern,

And the sunbeam's warm kisses fell on it,
Close nestled in coppice and herne!
The faded leaves covered it softly,
But when March passed over its bed,
It wakened affrighted to listen
And raised up its fair little head.
And when our dear April so gentle,

With its warm tears the little face kissed,
It spread out its green leaves above it,
And blushed very sweetly, I wist.
And when I had gone to the hillside
To welcome the springtime so new,
I was led by the delicate fragrance
To the place where the arbutus grew.
O timid and sweet little blossom!
A lesson thou bringest to me-
Though thy life it is fair in beholding,
It is hidden in humility.

-Selected.

R

WISHING.

ING-TING! I wish I were a primrose,

A bright yellow primrose blooming in the spring!
The stooping boughs above me,

The wandering bee to love me,

The fern and moss to creep across,
And the elm-tree for our king!

Nay- stay! I wish I were an elm-tree,
A great, lofty elm-tree with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,

The sun and moonshine glance in,
The birds would house among the boughs,
And ever sweetly sing!

no! I wish I were a robin,

A robin or a little wren, everywhere to go;
Through forest, field, or garden,

And ask no leave or pardon,

Till winter comes with icy thumbs

To ruffle up our wings!

Well — tell! Where should I fly to,

Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?

Before a day was over,

Home comes the rover,

Snowflakes were flying,
Skies were grim and gray,
Bluebird and robin
Had scurried away;
Only the cruel wind
Laughed as it said,
"Poor little April fools,
Hurry back to bed!"

Soft chins a-quiver,
Dark eyes full of tears,

Brave little pansies,

Spite of their fears,

Baby, what does the robin say,
Do you hear his evening song?
He sits and sings his twilight lay,

With a heart all merry and strong.
He sings, "Good night, my baby dear;
Sleep well, sleep soft, and do not fear;
For somehow I know as I sit and sing,
That God takes care of everything."

STA

MAY.

TARTING, starting from the earth,
See the pretty flowers!

Wakened from their winter's sleep
By the springtime showers.

Now we know that May hath come,
O'er the meadows dancing;

Robin lilts his sweetest song,
Sunbeams round him glancing.

Bluebird 's knocking at the door,
Swallow's hither coming;
And, o'er all the sunny mead,
Springtime bees are humming.

Golden sunshine, silver rain,

Each its work is doing.
Birds and bees and blossoms fair,
Now the world renewing.