THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL.
hen skies are bright and winter's o'er,
And leaves and flowers return once more,
A little blossom 'mongst the grass
Peeps at wayfarers as they pass.
'Mongst gayer buds of larger size
It modest opes its purple eyes;
And those who love the flowers know well
The little Scarlet Pimpernel.
It hath a story of its own,
That unto country-folk is known;
For Nature's hand hath given it strange
Perception of the weather's change.
If clear will be the day, and fair,
It opens wide its petals rare;
But if the clouds should threaten rain,
It shuts them up quite close again.
The shepherds love the little flower
That tells them of the changeful hour,
And many a one asks, "Tell me, pray,
What weather there will be to-day."
And so in time another name,
In honour of its rare gift, came;
And the wee blossom 'mongst the grass
Our Music Page.
Let's away to the Woods.
In moderate time.
Words and Music by Charles Bassett.
1. The tints of the trees are mellowing down From their summer green to a russet brown, And many a harvest is over and past, For Autumn has chas'd away Summer at last.
2. The summer's warm glow has not died from the land, But is seen and felt upon ev'ry hand; From the orchard where apples hang ripe on the trees, To the thicket where nuts nod and dance in the breeze.
3. The birds sweetly sing as they soar in the sky, And the squirrels frisk in the branches high; And it makes me as happy and merry as they To roam in the woods on a bright autumn day.
Then away, let's away to the woods, Where the nuts and blackberries grow, Where the flow'rs at our feet send forth fragrance sweet--To the woods, to the woods let us go!... To the woods let us go!....
The Editor's Pocket-book.
