THE BUTTERFLY. UT in the garden wee Elsie OUT Was gathering flowers for me; "O mamma!" she cried, "hurry, hurry! A velvet-winged butterfly flew, And the pansies themselves were not brighter "Oh! isn't it pretty!" cried Elsie, THE BUTTERFLY'S LESSON. THE HE lilies were swinging their fair, white bells, When Golden-wing stopped for a sip of dew, One beautiful day in June. Around lay the gardens, as fair as a rose, Was the home of the birds near the skies. And Golden-wing thought if he only might live He would give up his lilies and honey and dew, So he fluttered his dainty, golden wings To the home of the birds in the trees. The journey was long, he grew weary and faint, But still he pressed up to the nest in the trees, He reached it at last, the pretty, cool nest, Where the young birds were learning to sing; But he was not there long, for a greedy young bird Caught sight of poor Golden-wing. The birds all came rushing in hot pursuit, That the garden were only near. And at length, when he reached it, the garden fair, And hid in his lily home, He vowed to be more contented henceforth, And never again to roam. And he learned the lesson we all must heed, That those who are made for the lily bells, Can never find homes in the trees. - Selected. A THE GRASSHOPPER. GRASSHOPPER sat in an oak tree green, Yellows and purples and greens and grays; A happy old fellow and merry was he As I heard one day when this story was told! A bobolink skirmishing over the way, For the prince of good manners-the grasshopper-he, "How much do you make by the day and the week?" A barefoot boy, as he came along, "You cobble a shoe!" he cried as he laughed, "You're the funniest cobbler of all your craft; Why, your leather's a leaf, and your paste—it is dew! Oh, what a cobbler to cobble a shoe!" But the bobolink answered with honest wrath, BUZhis is the song DUZZ! buzz! buzz! This is the song of the bee. His legs are of yellow; A jolly, good fellow, And yet a great worker is he. In days that are sunny He levies a tax ! Buzz! buzz! buzz! The sweet-smelling clover, Makes fragrant his wings: Buzz! buzz! buzz! From morning's first light 'Tis harder by far To have nothing to do. Marian Douglass. THE BUSY BEE. How WOW doth the little busy bee How skillfully she builds her cell, With the sweet food she makes. |