Part 8 (2/2)

THE DANDELION.

Bright little dandelion, Downy, yellow face, Peeping up among the gra.s.s With such gentle grace; Minding not the April wind Blowing rude and cold; Brave little dandelion, With a heart of gold.

Meek little dandelion, Changing into curls At the magic touch of these Merry boys and girls.

When they pinch thy dainty throat, Strip thy dress of green, On thy soft and gentle face Not a cloud is seen.

Poor little dandelion, Now all gone to seed, Scattered roughly by the wind Like a common weed.

Thou hast lived thy little life Smiling every day; Who could do a better thing In a better way?

--_Anon._

AFTERNOON IN FEBRUARY.

The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes, The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red.

The snow recommences; The buried fences Mark no longer The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows, Like fearful shadows, Slowly pa.s.ses A funeral train.

The bell is pealing, And every feeling Within me responds To the dismal knell.

Shadows are trailing, My heart is bewailing And tolling within Like a funeral bell.

--_Longfellow._

NIKOLINA.[4]

Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her-- The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina?

Oh, her eyes are blue as corn-flowers 'mid the corn, And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn.

Oh, buy the baby's blossoms if you meet her, And stay with gentle looks and words to greet her; She'll gaze at you and smile and clasp your hand, But not one word of yours can understand.

”Nikolina!” Swift she turns if any call her, As she stands among the poppies, hardly taller; Breaking off their flaming scarlet cups for you, With spikes of slender larkspur, brightly blue.

In her little garden many a flower is growing-- Red, gold and purple, in the soft wind blowing; But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay Is sweeter, quainter, brighter, lovelier even than they.

Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her-- This baby girl from Norway, Nikolina?

Slowly she's learning English words to try And thank you if her flowers you buy.

--_Celia Thaxter._

[4] Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Reprinted by permission of the publishers.

LOST![5]

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