Over in the meadow,

Where the stream runs blue, Lived an old mother-fish

And her little fishes two. "Swim!" said the mother; "We swim," said the two: So they swam and they leaped Where the stream runs blue. Over in the meadow,

In a hole in a tree,
Lived a mother-bluebird

And her little birdies three.
Sing!" said the mother
"We sing," said the three:
So they sang, and were glad,
In the hole of the tree.

Over in the meadow,

In the reeds on the shore, Lived a mother-muskrat

And her little ratties four. "Dive!" said the mother; "We dive," said the four: So they dived and they burrowed In the reeds on the shore.

Over in the meadow,

In a snug beehive,

Lived a mother-honey bee
And her little honeys five.

"Buzz!" said the mother;

"We buzz," said the five: So they buzzed and they hummed In the snug beehive.

Over in the meadow,

In a nest built of sticks,
Lived a black mother-crow
And her little crows six.
"Caw!" said the mother;
"We caw," said the six:
So they cawed and they called
In their nest built of sticks.
Over in the meadow,

Where the grass is so even,
Lived a gay mother-cricket

And her little crickets seven. "Chirp!" said the mother; "We chirp," said the seven: So they chirped cheery notes In the grass soft and even. Over in the meadow,

By the old mossy gate, Lived brown mother-lizard And her little lizards eight. "Bask!" said the mother; "We bask!" said the eight. So they basked in the sun

On the old mossy gate.

Over in the meadow,

Where the clear pools shine,
Lived a green mother-frog

And her little froggies nine. "Croak!" said the mother;

"We croak," said the nine: So they croaked, and they plashed, Where the clear pools shine.

Over in the meadow,
In a sly little den,

Lived a gray mother-spider
And her little spiders ten.
"Spin!" said the mother;
"We spin," said the ten :
So they spun lace webs
In their sly little den.

Over in the meadow,

In the soft summer even, Lived a mother-firefly

And her little flies eleven. "Shine!" said the mother;

"We shine," said the eleven:

So they shone like stars

In the soft summer even.

Over in the meadow,

Where the men dig and delve,

Lived a wise mother-ant

And her anties twelve.

"Toil!" said the mother;

"We toil," said the twelve: So they toiled, and were wise, Where the men dig and delve.

-Olive A. Wadsworth

ING-TING! I wish I were a Primrose,

RING

A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the

spring!

The stooping boughs 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
The winds would set them dancing,
The sun and moonshine glance in,
The birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing.

Oh-no! I wish I were a Robin,

gay!

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!

12

Well-tell! Where should I fly to,

Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?

"You run on so fast!

I wish you would stay;
My boat and my flowers
You will carry away.

"But I will run after:

Mother says that I may;

For I would know where
You are running away."

So Mary ran on;

But I have heard say,
That she never could find

Where the brook ran away.

Mrs. Follen

Vol. I