THE LITTLE PLANT.
In my little garden bed
Raked so nicely over.
First the tiny seeds I sow.
Then with soft earth cover.
Shining down, the great round sun
Shines upon it often;
Little raindrops, pattering down,
Help the seeds to soften.
Then the little plant awakes!
Down the roots go creeping.
Up it lifts its little head
Through the brown earth peeping.
Higher and higher still it grows
Through the summer hours,
’Till some happy day the buds
Open into flowers.
Emilie Poulsson.
WORK AND PLAY.
Once there was a little girl named Amy.
She liked to play in the garden and hear the birds sing.
She said the flowers and birds talked to her.
One day her mother said, “Amy, you are a large girl now.
You must help me a little.
Every day I will give you something to do.”
“Oh Mother!” said Amy, “I do not like to work.
Please let me go into the woods and play.”
“Yes,” said her mother. “You may go and play.
I have no work for you to do just now.”
So away Amy ran through the pleasant garden into the woods.