The rooks are building up their nests upon the great

oak tree,

And everything's as busy and as happy as can be.

There's not a cloud upon the sky, there's nothing dark or sad;

I jump, and scarce know what to do, I feel so very glad.

God must be very good indeed, who made each pretty

thing;

I'm sure we ought to love him much for bringing back the spring.

- M. A. Stoddart.

A SPRING MEETING.

(From Harper's Young People, by permission. Copyright, 1891, by Harper and Brothers.)

ULLO, Bob Wren!

HULLO

Are you back again?

Glad to see you so well and so merry;
Fear we're here rather early this year!
Dear, but I wish I'd a bite of a cherry!
Just ripe in the South,

Melt in your mouth.

Weren't you sorry to leave the sunny
Land of bloom, and of bees and honey?

By-and-by here 'twill be bright and jolly
With bud and blossom, but somehow now
The atmosphere seems melancholy,

For there's not a leaf on a single bough.

And the wind, oh, how it makes you shiver,

And long for the balmy air that blows
The reeds that quiver

Above some river

That warm in Floridian sunlight flows!

Have you any new songs to sing this season? And do you know where you are going to stop? We've taken rooms in the very top

Of "The Maple" — prices quite within reason. You've a flat near by that you've leased till fall? How nice! Then surely you'll come and call.

I

A SONG OF SPRING.

HEARD the bluebird singing
To robin in the tree.

"Cold winter now is over

And spring has come," said he;

"Tis time for flowers to rouse from sleep,

And from their downy blankets peep;

So wake, wake, little flowers,

Wake, for winter is o'er,

Wake, wake, wake,

The spring has come once more."

Said robin to the bluebird,

"My nest I now must build,

And shortly you shall see it

With pretty blue eggs filled.

Then let us join once more and sing;
So wake, wake, little flowers,

That all the flowers may know 'tis spring;
Wake, for winter is o'er,

Wake, wake, wake,

The spring has come once more."

The robin and the bluebird

Soon after flew away,

But as they left the tree-top,

I think I heard them say,

"If birds and flowers have work to do,
Why, so have little children too;
So work, work, little children,
Work, for winter is o'er,
Work, work, work,

The spring has come once more."

Where the leaf babies sleep,

Came the sunshine with a soft caress,

And whispered, "Buds, dear little buds,
Throw off your old winter wraps,

And put on your new spring dress;

So said the sunshine with its soft caress.

From the cradles they peeped

With a timid gaze;

Just to answer this soft caress,

They quickly courtesied a sweet "Good-day";
Then donned they all new dresses so gay;
And they said, "The world we'll bless;
Thank you, Sunshine, for your soft caress.'

- Miss Jenk's Songs and Games for Little Ones.

SUNBEAMS.

ERRY little sunbeams,

MER

Flitting here and there;

Joyous little sunbeams,

Dancing everywhere.

Come they with the morning light,
And chase away the gloomy night.

Kind words are like sunbeams,
That sparkle as they fall;

And loving smiles are sunbeams,

A light of joy to all.

In sorrow's eye they dry the tear,

And bring the fainting heart good cheer.

"Now,

THE SUNBEAMS.

OW, what shall I send to the Earth to-day?"
Said the great, round, golden Sun.

"Oh! let us go down there to work and play,"
Said the Sunbeams, every one.

So down to the Earth in a shining crowd,
Went the merry, busy crew;

They painted with splendor each floating cloud
And the sky while passing through.

"Shine on, little Star, if you like," they cried; "We will weave a golden screen

That soon all your twinkling and light shall hide, Though the Moon may peep between."

The Sunbeams then in through the windows crept, To the children in their beds

They poked at the eyelids of those who slept,
Gilded all the little heads.

“Wake up, little children!" they cried in glee, "And from Dreamland come away!

We've brought you a present: wake up and see! We have brought you a sunny day!"

- Emilie Poulsson.

IF I WERE A SUNBEAM.

FI were a sunbeam,

"IF

I know what I'd do:

I would seek white lilies

Rainy woodlands through:
I would steal among them,

Softest light I'd shed,
Until every lily

Raised its drooping head.