"Take courage, sweet neighbor!"
The Violet said;
And raised in entreaty
Her delicate head.
"The children are thoughtless,
I own, in my turn;
But if we all teach them,
They cannot but learn."
"The lesson," said the Alders,
"Is a simple one, indeed,
Where no root is, blooms no flower,
Where no flower is, no seed."
"'Tis very well said!" chirped the Robin,
From the elm tree fluttering down;
"If you'll write on your leaves such a lesson,
I'll distribute them over the town."
"Oh, write it, dear Alders!" the Innocents cried,
Their pretty eyes tearfully blue;
"You are older than we are; you're strong and you're wise—
There's none but would listen to you!"
But, ah! the Alders could not write;
And though the Robin knew
The art as well as any bird—
Or so he said—he flew
Straight up the hill and far away,
Remarking as he went,
He had a business errand
And was not on pleasure bent.
Did the children learn the lesson,
Though 'twas never written down?
We shall know when, gay and blithesome,
Lady Summer comes to town.
Nora Archibald Smith.
