Then stopped in the pasture to see the lambs play,
As frolicsome, cheerful, and happy as they.
We ranged o'er the meadow, the forest, and bowers,
Picked berries for mother, and gathered wild flowers,
Dear brother, how oft by the rosebush we sat,
While you caught the butterflies under your hat.
With gay happy hearts to the woodland we strayed,
When autumn its rich pensive beauty displayed;
The robin was chanting her sweet farewell song,
While blithe little squirrels went skipping along.