In his queer little pulpit
The little priest stands.

So much for the preacher

The sermon comes next.
Shall we tell how he preached it,
And where was his text?

We heard not the preacher
Expound or discuss;

But we looked at the people
And they looked at us.

We heard the wind organ,
The bee and the bird-

But of Jack-in-the-Pulpit

We heard not a word.

— Adapted from Whittier's Child Life. — CLARA SMITH,

"Buttercups' faces Beaming and bright, Clovers with bonnets,

Some red and some white."

THE LILAC

lavender

daintiest tinted

syrup

caramel

The sun shone warm, and the lilac said,
"I must hurry and get my table spread,
For if I am slow, and dinner late,
My friends, the bees, will have to wait."

So delicate lavender glass she brought
And the daintiest china ever bought,
Purple tinted, and all complete;

And she filled each cup with honey sweet.

"Dinner is ready!" the spring wind cried;
And from hive and hiding far and wide,
While the lilac laughed to see them come,
The little gray-jacketed bees came hum-m!

They sipped the syrup from every cell,
They nibbled at taffy and caramel;

Then, without being asked, they all buzzed, "We

Will be very happy to stay to tea.'