And drop their tired little heads,
And go to sleep in clover beds.
Then when the day dawns clear and blue
They wake and wash their hands in dew;
And as the sun climbs up the sky
They hold them up and let them dry;
And then to work the whole long day:
For clovers have no time to play.
—Helena Leeming Jelliffe.
Copyright, 1902, The Outlook Company.
[WHO TOLD THE NEWS?]
Oh, the sunshine told the bluebird,
And the bluebird told the brook,
That the dandelions were peeping
From the woodland's sheltered nook;
So the brook was blithe and happy,
And it babbled all the way,
As it ran to tell the river
Of the coming of the May.
Then the river told the meadow,
And the meadow told the bee,
That the tender buds were swelling
On the old horse-chestnut tree;
And the bee shook off its torpor,
And it spread each gauzy wing,
As it flew to tell the flowers
Of the coming of the spring.