I KNOW when little buds come out,
And spread their colors all about,
They make soft music—Yet it's true
Most people never hear. Do you?
There is the faintest, tinkly sound.
Birds fly to listen all around,
Then all the leaves stand just as still,
And sunshine dances on the hill.
FRILLS
THE dainty frills upon my frocks
Make me all twinkly smiles inside.
I want to take my sweets around,—
A something in me says "Divide."
I run to give my mother dear
My nicest, clean-face kiss.
I feed the sparrows on the steps,
And think what others miss.
I put some water on my fern;
To every one I want to say
Nice velvet things. It is so queer
That we can dress our moods away!
Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.
GONE SOMEWHERE
