A letter. “Oh! they made it in the place
Where violets blossom,” said the little maid.
All out of sight and sound played noisy Fred;
Came in, so happy, when the sun went down.
“Out in the field you’ve been,” his mother said,
“Among the clover and the grass, new-mown.”
“How could you tell? Oh! I know,” laughed the boy,
“I’ve caught the sweet, and brought it all away;
Just so, you said, I’d bring a pain or joy,
As with the bad or good I chose to play.