SMALL BEGINNING.
When the first little crocus peeped out of the ground,
And slyly looked round,
Not a flower was awake, not a bit of new green
Was anywhere seen;
And it seemed, with a shiver the little one said,
"Oh, I am afraid,
The trees are so naked, the earth is so black!
Please let me go back!
You have called me too early, my dear Mother Spring,
I am such a wee thing!"
Then a bluebird whistled, "Oh, no! my dear,
It is good you are here;
For now we are sure that spring is near."
Then a sober old robin came bustling by
With the sleep in his eye;
"Ah, me! how stupid I was to wait;
And now I am late!
The bluebird has piped, and the crocus has come;
And you know by the hum
The hot little bee is beating his drum."
Then sweet Mother Spring, with a sunshine kiss,
Said something like this:
"Thanks, brave little crocus, so slender and small,
For heeding my call
While orchards were leafless, and snow-drifts staid
In the all-day shade:
You are telling us sweetly that soonest begun
The soonest is done;
That little by little makes up the great,
And early obeying is better than late."
GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.
