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Our grand snow king is melting down,

And never more will rise;

The icicles that spike his crown

Have dwindled, too, in size;

And busy fingers I behold,

That weave with fairy floss,
As on the bare rocks, hard and cold,
They spread their mats across.

My heart leaps high, as, far and wide,
Where'er I chance to stray,
I find sweet harbingers that hide
Their elfin forms away,

Down deep within the tangled woods,
With that bright swarm of bees,
The birds, the butterflies, the buds,
That seek such haunts as these.

Weave on, weave on, dear Mother Earth,
Thy carpet warm and bright,

Of warp and woof thou hast no dearth;
And oh, with what delight

We'll make its folds spread o'er the land
In length and breadth complete;
And praise the kind and loving hand

That placed it 'neath our feet.

- Selected.

A

THE SEED.

S wonderful things are hidden away
In the heart of a little brown seed,
As ever were found in the fairy net
Of which children sometimes read.

Over its pretty shining coat

We sprinkle the earth so brown, And the sunshine warms its lowly bed, And the rain comes dropping down.

Patter, patter, the soft, warm rain
Knocks at the tiny door,

And two little heads come peeping out,
Like a story in fairy lore.

One is the Caulicle creeping down,
At the first but a wee white root;
The other the Plumule; above the soil
It sends up a little green shoot.

Steadily up toils the slender stem,
And only its work it heeds;

A leaf appears, buds, blossoms, and fruit,
Last of all come the little seeds.

Then its work all done, if an annual,
It has had its brief, bright day,

And now at the touch of the Frost-king's breath
It withers and fades away.

Selected.

WINGED SEEDS.

H, gold-green wings, and bronze-green wings,
And rose-tinged wings, that down the breeze

Come sailing from the maple trees!

You showering things, you shimmering things,
That June-time always brings!

Oh, are you seeds that seek the earth,
The shade of lovely leaves to spread?
Or shining angels, that had birth
When kindly words were said?

Oh, downy dandelion wings,
Wild-floating wings like silver spun,
That dance and glisten in the sun!
You airy things, you elfin things,
That June-time always brings!

Oh, are you seeds that seek the earth,
The light of laughing flowers to spread?
Or flitting fairies, that had birth

When merry words were said?

- Helen Gray Cone - St. Nicholas

NATURE'S THOUGHTFULNESS.

So busy is the dear old earth,

A-weaving million tresses

And making for her forest-trees
The freshest of new dresses;

A-spreading carpets o'er the dales
Embroidered with sweet posies,
A-molding petals velvet soft,

And making up her roses:

1

So busy is the dear old earth
Her spreading meadows over,
A-storing honey in the cells
Of her vast fields of clover:
A-carving scarlet lily cups,
A setting blue-bells ringing,
And teaching all her baby birds
The newest rules of singing;
So busy is the dear old earth
Through every summer morning:
Pray tell me why this eager haste,
This marvelous adorning,
The fringed petals, tinted cups,
The wondrous variation?

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Methinks she's getting ready for

Her boys' and girls' vacation.

- M. F. Butts.

WORK.

OWN and up, and up and down,

DOWN

Over and over and over;

Turn in the little seed, dry and brown,

Turn out the bright red clover.

Work, and the sun your work will share,
And the rain in its time will fall;
For Nature, she worketh everywhere,
And the grace of God through all.

With hand on the spade and heart in the sky,
Dress the ground and till it;

Turn in the little seed, brown and dry,
Turn out the golden millet.

Work, and your house shall be duly fed;
Work, and rest shall be won;

I hold that a man had better be dead
Than alive, when his work is done!

Down and up, and up and down,

On the hill-top, low in the valley;
Turn in the little seed, dry and brown,
Turn out the rose and lily.

Work, with a plan, or without a plan,
And your ends shall be shaped true;
Work, and learn at first-hand, like a man—
The best way to know is to do!.

Down and up till life shall close,

Ceasing not your praises;

Turn in the wild, white winter snows,
Turn out the sweet spring daisies.
Work, and the sun your work will share,
And the rain in its time will fall;
For Nature, she worketh everywhere,
And the grace of God through all.

Selected.

HOW THE WIND BLOWS!

HIGH and low

The spring winds blow!

They take the kites that the boys have made,

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And carry them off high into the air;

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