As comes the sun, at the morning light.
So farewell, pansy; farewell till the spring.
I shall look for thee, when the robins sing.
LITTLE JOE—A CHRISTMAS STORY.
’Twas Christmas morn, and little Joe
Stood looking out upon the snow
With sad and thoughtful face.
His childish brow was knit with care;
Unlike the smile ’twas wont to wear,
It now bore sorrow’s trace.