Volume I Part 33 (2/2)

Under that fleecy tent, Careless of cold, Blithe little Dandelion Counteth her gold.

Meek little Dandelion Groweth more fair, Till dies the amber dew Out from her hair.

High rides the thirsty sun, Fiercely and high; Faint little Dandelion Closeth her eye.

Pale little Dandelion, In her white shroud, Heareth the angel-breeze Call from the cloud; Tiny plumes fluttering Make no delay; Little winged Dandelion Soareth away.

Helen Barron Bostwick [1826-? ]

LITTLE WHITE LILY From ”Within and Without”

Little White Lily sat by a stone, Drooping and waiting till the sun shone.

Little White Lily suns.h.i.+ne has fed; Little White Lily is lifting her head.

Little White Lily said: ”It is good, Little White Lily's clothing and food.”

Little White Lily dressed like a bride!

s.h.i.+ning with whiteness, and crowned beside!

Little White Lily drooping with pain, Waiting and waiting for the wet rain, Little White Lily holdeth her cup; Rain is fast falling and filling it up.

Little White Lily said: ”Good again, When I am thirsty to have the nice rain.

Now I am stronger, now I am cool; Heat cannot burn me, my veins are so full.”

Little White Lily smells very sweet; On her head suns.h.i.+ne, rain at her feet.

Thanks to the suns.h.i.+ne, thanks to the rain, Little White Lily is happy again.

George Macdonald [1824-1905]

WIs.h.i.+NG

Ring-ting! I wish I were a Primrose, A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the Spring!

The stooping bough above me, The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the Elm-tree for our King!

Nay,--stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree, A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!

The winds would set them dancing, The sun and moons.h.i.+ne glance in, The Birds would house among the boughs, And sweetly sing!

O--no! I wish I were a Robin, A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go; Through forest, field, or garden, And ask no leave or pardon, Till Winter comes with icy thumbs To ruffle up our wing.

Well--tell! Where should I fly to, Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?

Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For Mother's kiss,--sweeter this Than any other thing!

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