By and by the little cloud felt a dreadful shock,
Just as does a boat when it hits upon a rock;

Something ran all through it, burning like a flame,
And the little cloud began to cry as down to earth it came.

Then old Grandpa Thunder, as he growled away,
Said, "I thought I'd make you mind 'fore another day
Little clouds were meant to fall when the earth is dry,
And not go sailing round away up in the sky."

And old Grandma Lightning, flitting to and fro,
Said, "What were you made for, I would like to know,
That you spend your precious time sailing all around,
When you know you ought to be buried in the ground?"

Then lilies dear and pansies all began to bloom,

And the cherries grew and grew till they took up all the

room.

Then by and by the little cloud, with all its duty done,
Was caught up by a rainbow and allowed a little fun.

-Selected.

C

FOREST TREES.

HILDREN, have you seen the budding
Of the trees in valleys low?

Have you watched it creeping, creeping
Up the mountain, soft and slow?
Weaving there a plush-like mantle,
Brownish, grayish, reddish green,
Changing, changing, daily, hourly,
Till it smiles in emerald sheen?

D

Have you watched the shades so varied,
From the graceful, little white birch,
Faint and tender, to the balsam's
Evergreen, so dark and rich?
Have you seen the quaint mosaics
Gracing all the mountain-sides,
Where they, mingling, intertwining,
Sway like softest mid-air tides?

Have you seen the autumn frostings
Spread in all the leafage bright,
Frostings of the rarest color,

Red and yellow, dark and light?
Have you seen the glory painted
On the mountain, valley, hill,
When the landscape, all illumined,
Blazons forth His taste and skill?

Have you seen the foliage, dropping,
Tender cling, as loth to leave
Mother-trees that taught them deftly
All their warp and woof to weave?
Have you seen the leafless branches
Tossing wildly 'gainst the blue?
Have you seen the soft gray beauty
Of their wintry garments' hue?
Have you thought the resurrection
Seen in Nature year by year

Is a symbol of our rising

In a higher, holier sphere? Children, ye are buds maturing;

Make your autumn rich and grand, That your winter be a passage

Through the gates to Glory-land.

-Mother Truth's Melodies

Now

HIDE-AND-SEEK.

OW hide the flowers beneath the snow. And Winter shall not find them; Their safety nooks he cannot know;

They left no tracks behind them.

The little brooks keep very still,
Safe in their ice-homes lying;
Let Winter seek them where he will,
There's no chance for his spying.

Gone are the birds; they're hiding where
The Winter never searches ;
Safe in the balmy Southern air,
They sing on sunlit perches.

But comes the Spring at last to look
For all her playmates hidden,
And one by one flower, bird, and brook-
Shall from its place be bidden.

Then shall the world be glad and gay,
The birds begin their chorus,

The brooks sing, too, along their way,
And flowers spring up before us!

Frank Dempster Sherman

OH,

A LAUGHING CHORUS.

H, such a commotion under the ground When March called, "Ho, there! ho!" Such spreading of rootlets far and wide,

Such whispering to and fro;

And, "Are you ready?" the Snowdrop asked,
"Tis time to start, you know."
"Almost, my dear," the Scilla replied;
"I'll follow as soon as you go."
Then, "Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came

Of laughter soft and low,

From the millions of flowers under the ground-
Yes-millions-beginning to grow.

"I'll promise my blossoms," the Crocus said, "When I hear the bluebirds sing.'

And straight thereafter, Narcissus cried,

My silver and gold I'll bring."

"And ere they are dulled," another spoke, "The Hyacinth bells shall ring."

And the Violet only murmured, "I'm here,"

And sweet grew the air of spring. Then, "Ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came

Of laughter soft and low,

From the millions of flowers under the ground

Oh, the pretty, brave things! through the coldest days, Imprisoned in walls of brown,

They never lost heart though the blast shrieked loud, And the sleet and the hail came down,

But patiently each wrought her beautiful dress,
Or fashioned her beautiful crown;

And now they are coming to brighten the world,
Still shadowed by Winter's frown;

And well may they cheerily laugh, "Ha! ha!"
In a chorus soft and low,

The millions of flowers hid under the ground-
Yes-millions- beginning to grow.

Selected.

THE SNOWDROP.

OW the spring is coming on,

Now

Now the snow and ice are gone,

Come, my little snowdrop root,

Will you not begin to shoot?

Ah, I see your little head
Peeping from the flower-bed;
Looking out so green and gay,
On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow,
And hath melted all the snow;
And the sun shines out so warm,
You need not fear another storm.

So your pretty flowers show,
And your petals white undo;
Then you'll hang your modest head

Down upon my flower-bed.

- Songs for the Little Ones at Home.