THE SUNBEAM’S WOOING.
A fickle sunbeam fell in love
With a little flower;
He scattered sunshine in her path,
And tarried in her bower.
The little flower returned his love,
Her heart was filled with pride
To be the chosen flower of love;
To be the sun-god’s bride.
For bridal robe on wedding day
She chose her richest gown,
And donned a veil of sunshine bright,
And dew-drops for her crown.
Then up the aisle of sunbeams swept,
A queen of beauty she.
The sunbeam never brighter was.
In gorgeous dress was he.
Most proud he was of his fair bride,
So beautiful, and pure;
And thought, as he had found his mate,
His love would aye endure.
But sunbeams are not always true.
In glancing round one day,
He saw another little flower,
And by her wished to stay.
His chosen bride deprived of love,
Soon faded, withered, died.
A poor forsaken flower of earth
For love now vainly cried.
Alas for her! His love had cooled;
He hid behind a cloud.
He hid his face from his first love
Her bridal veil was shroud.