THE ECHO
I LAUGHED in woods down where a brook
Ran off with little leaps,
An answer came from some fern-nook,
And then another made me look
Off in the dark tree-deeps.
I ran to all the nooks to see
If I could find the one
Who heard me first, and answered me—
Each place was still as it could be,
As far as I could run.
Nurse said, "There's no one to be caught.
It's just the echo's glee."
But then I know that it was not!
The little wood-elves all forgot,
And laughed out loud with me.
THE SICK ROSE
THIS rose I picked, began to die,
And so, I've brought it back again
To where it used to live. I'll try
To make it as it was—and then,
I'll whisper to it how I care.
Why can't it grow now any more,
A rose with other roses there,
Upon the rosebush by the door?
Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.