“Dear little snow-drop! I pray you arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come open your eyes;
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold,
Put on our mantles of purple and gold;
Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear,
Summer is coming! and springtime is here!”
blue bird.
THE BLUE BIRD.
Winged lute that we call a blue bird,
You blend in a silver strain
The sound of the laughing waters,
The patter of spring’s sweet rain,
The voice of the wind, the sunshine,
And fragrance of blossoming things,
Ah! you are a poem of April
That God endowed with wings.E. E. R.
