Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,
Are you awake in the dark?
Here we lie cosily, close to each other;
Hark to the song of the lark—
"Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you,
Put on your green coats and gay,
Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you,
Waken! 'tis morning—'tis May!"
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,
What kind of flower will you be?
I'll be a poppy—all white, like my mother,
Do be a poppy like me.
What! you're a sunflower? How I shall miss you,
When you're grown golden and high!
But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you,
Little brown brother, good-by!
—E. Nesbit.
CLOVERS
The clovers have no time to play:
They feed the cows and make the hay,
And trim the lawns and help the bees,
Until the sun sinks through the trees.
And then they lay aside their cares,
And fold their hands to say their prayers,