CLOVERS
The clovers have no time to play:
They feed the cows and make the hay,
And trim the lawns and help the bees,
Until the sun sinks through the trees.
And then they lay aside their cares,
And fold their hands to say their prayers,
And drop their tired little heads,
And go to sleep in clover beds.
Then when the day dawns clear and blue
They wake and wash their hands in dew;
And as the sun climbs up the sky
They hold them up and let them dry;
And then to work the whole long day:
For clovers have no time to play.
—Helena Leeming Jelliffe.
Copyright, 1902, The Outlook Company.
[WHO TOLD THE NEWS?]
Oh, the sunshine told the bluebird,
And the bluebird told the brook,
That the dandelions were peeping
From the woodland's sheltered nook;
So the brook was blithe and happy,
And it babbled all the way,
As it ran to tell the river
Of the coming of the May.
Then the river told the meadow,
And the meadow told the bee,
That the tender buds were swelling
On the old horse-chestnut tree;
And the bee shook off its torpor,
And it spread each gauzy wing,
As it flew to tell the flowers
Of the coming of the spring.
[AIR]
| squeeze | crevice | surrounds | gust |
| motion | nothing | furniture | weigh |
We say that a room with no furniture in it is empty. But this is not exactly true. There is one thing that the room is full of to its very top. It is something that you can not see. But it is as real a thing as the furniture. This thing is air.
If you take all of your books out of the box in which you keep them, you say there is nothing left in it. But the box is full of air. When you shut it up and put it away, you put away a box full of air. When the books were in it, it was full of books and air together. Now it is full of air alone.
The air is everywhere. It is always ready to go where there is a place for it. Every crack and crevice is filled with it.
You see a little boy playing with a ball. What is it that he is throwing against the wall? It is a rubber ball, you say. But is this all? Is there not something else besides the rubber?
Suppose that you prick a hole in the ball and squeeze it. It is now good for nothing. But the rubber is all there. Why is the ball good for nothing?
It is because the air which filled the ball and made it round has escaped. The ball is of no use unless you can keep it full of air.
Perhaps you think that air does not weigh anything. But it does weigh something, though very little, and its weight is well known.
You can not see air, but you can sometimes feel it. You can not feel it while it is still if you are still at the same time. You can feel it only when it is in motion. When the wind blows upon you, it is air in motion that you feel.
When you fan yourself, the air strikes upon your face, and you feel it. When there is a gust of wind, the air comes against you just as a wave of water does.
Sometimes we say the wind blows very hard or very strong. This is when the air moves very fast. When there is only a gentle breeze, the air is moving very slowly.
When the air moves very fast, it sometimes does a great deal of harm. It roots up trees and blows down houses.
The air is clear, like glass. That is, it lets you see through it. But when you look up through the air, you see that it is of a blue color. You call the blue air the sky. The sky is the blue air that surrounds the earth.
—Worthington Hooker.