"In the fruit garden the trees are green. The flowers have long ago dropped their petals and shut their doors while they made their seeds. The strawberries and cherries are nearly over, the gooseberries and currants and raspberries are ripe, but the apples and pears and plums are green and hard on the trees. The bees have left the orchard and betaken themselves to the flower garden, but the birds are feasting royally in the gooseberry and currant bushes.
"I peeped into the pool below the fruit garden. The young gnats and dragon-flies have crept up the bushes for their great change, and from there have flown away, when this was over, to earn their living like the rest of the world.
"In the wheatfield the green corn stands high, and waves its tasselled flowers in the summer breezes. The grasses and weeds on the roadside are all in flower. In the meadows the lambs have grown big, and the sheep are gladly being shorn of their hot woolly coats. The young birds are leaving their nests in the trees and learning to fly, the fathers and mothers teach them with infinite love and care.
"There was a great commotion in the bee-hive this morning, for a young queen had wakened from her chrysalis sleep, and the old queen in her jealousy would have stung her to death. There was much running about and loud buzzing. Everybody was too excited to think of going out to look for honey; but at last they came to an agreement, and some of the bees went with the old queen to look for a new home while the rest stayed in the hive with the new queen. The old queen flew to an apple-tree in the orchard; her people surrounded her in a dense mass to protect her till a hive was brought and they were safely housed. To-morrow they will be as busy as can be, making their new honeycomb. Already they have started."
SUMMER TIME
Roses red, roses white,
Up the hedges climb.
Gardens are a lovely sight!
This is summer time.
Clover red, clover white,
Bloom among the grass.
All the world is filled with light;
Skies are clear as glass.
Cherries red, cherries white,
Show with each new breeze.
Linnets sing in sweet delight
High on rocking trees.