TH

DANDELION.

HERE'S a dandy little fellow,
Who dresses all in yellow,

In yellow with an overcoat of green ;
With his hair all crisp and curly,
In the springtime bright and early
A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.
Through all the bright June weather,
Like a jolly little tramp,

He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;
Around his yellow feather,

The gypsy fireflies camp;

His companions are the wood lark and the toad

But at last this little fellow

Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,

And very feebly totters o'er the green;

For he very old is growing

And with hair all white and flowing,

A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
Golden dancer on the lea!

Older growing, white hair flowing,

Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!

- Nellie M. Garabrant.

SEVEN TIMES ONE:

HERE'S no dew left on the daisies and clover,

THE

There's no rain left in heaven;

I've said my "seven times" over and over,

Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old, I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done;

The lambs play always, they know no better;
They are only one times one.

O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing

And shining so round and low;

You were bright! ah bright! but your light is failingYou are nothing now but a bow.

You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven
That God has hidden your face?

I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven,
And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow,
You've powdered your legs with gold!
O brave marsh marybuds, rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold!

O columbine, open your folded wrapper
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!
O cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper
That hangs in your clear green bell!

And show me your nest with the young ones in it;

I will not steal them away;

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet

I am seven times one to-day.

-Jean Ingelow.

THE LILAC.

HE sun shone warm, and the lilac said,

THE

“I must hurry and get my table spread, For if I am slow, and dinner late, My friends, the bees, will have to wait."

So delicate lavender glass she brought
And the daintiest china ever bought,
Purple tinted, and all complete;

And she filled each cup with honey sweet.

"Dinner is ready!" the spring wind cried;
And from hive and hiding far and wide,
While the lilac laughed to see them come,
The little gray-jacketed bees came hum-m!

They sipped the sirup from every cell,

They nibbled at taffy and caramel;

Then, without being asked, they all buzzed, “We

Will be very happy to stay to tea.'

Clara Doty Bates.

A

THE CHICKEN'S MISTAKE.

LITTLE downy chicken one day
Asked leave to go on the water,

Where she saw a duck with her brood at play,
Swimming and splashing about her.

Indeed, she began to peep

and cry,

When her mother wouldn't let her:
"If ducks can swim there, why can't I;
Are they any bigger or better?"

Then the old hen answered, "Listen to me,
And hush your foolish talking;

Just look at your feet and you will see
They were only made for walking."

But chicky wistfully eyed the brook,
And didn't half believe her,

For she seemed to say by a knowing look,
"Such stories couldn't deceive her."

And as her mother was scratching the ground,
She muttered lower and lower,

"I know I can go there and not get drowned,
And so I think I'll show her."

Then she made a plunge where the stream was deep,

And saw too late her blunder:

For she hadn't hardly time to peep

Till her foolish head went under.

And now I hope her fate will show

The child, my story reading,

That those who are older sometimes know

What you will do well in heeding.

That each content in his place should dwell,

And envy not his brother;

And any part that is acted well

Is just as good as another.

For we all have our proper sphere below,
And this is a truth worth knowing:
You will come to grief if you try to go
Where you never were made for going.

- Phœbe Cary.

ROVER IN CHURCH.

WAS a Sunday morning in early May,

'TWA

A beautiful, sunny, quiet day,

And all the village, old and young,

Had trooped to church when the church bells rung; The windows were open and breezes sweet Fluttered the hymn books from seat to seat;

Even the birds in the pale-leaved birch

Sang as softly as if in church.

Right in the midst of the minister's prayer

There came a knock at the outer door.

"Who's there, I wonder!" the sexton thought
As his careful ear the tapping caught.
Rap-rap, rap-rap, a louder sound

The boy on the back seat turned around.
What could it mean? for never before
Had any tapped at the old church door.

Again the tapping, and now 'tis loud;

The minister paused- tho' his head was bowed.