3
The gay green grass comes creeping

So soft beneath their feet;
The frogs begin to ripple

A music clear and sweet.

And buttercups are coming,

And scarlet columbine,
And in the sunny meadows

The dandelions shine.

And just as many daisies

As their soft hands can hold,
The little ones may gather,

All fair in white and gold.

Here blows the warm, red clover,

There peeps the violet blue; 0, happy little children,

God made them all for you.

HELPS TO STUDY

Notes and Questions What trees are mentioned in this Name some spring flowers which poem?

are not mentioned anywhere in What flowers are mentioned ?

this poem. Where do these flowers grow! Can you think of any reason the What colors do you see when you author may bave had for choosread the fourth stanza?

ing the flowers which she menWhat colors do you see when you tions? read the fifth stanza?

For whom does the poem tell us Why is the violet described as these beautiful flowers were peeping?

Words and Phrases for Study PRONUNCIATION: al'-der

dăn’-de-li-on cõl’-ŭm-bine

vi'-6-let

I COME, I come! ye have called me long-
I come o’er the mountains with light and song !
Ye may trace my step o’er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.

2

I have breathed on the South, and the chestnut flowers
By thousands have burst from the forest-bowers,
And the ancient graves and the fallen fanes
Are veiled with wreaths on Italian plains ;-
But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom,
To speak of the ruin or the tomb!

3
I have looked on the hills of the stormy North,
And the larch has hung all his tassels forth,
The fisher is out on the sunny sea,
And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free,
For Biography, see p. 51.

And the pine has a fringe of softer green,
And the moss looks bright where my foot hath been.

I have sent through the wood-paths a growing sigh,
And called out each voice of the deep-blue sky;
From the night-bird's lay through the starry time,
In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime,
To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes,
When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks.

From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain,
They are sweeping on to the silvery main,
They are flashing down from the mountain brows,
They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs,
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves !

6

Come forth, 0 ye children of gladness! come!
Where the violets lie may be now your home.
Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye,
And the bounding footstep to meet me fly!
With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay,
Come forth to the sunshine-I may not stay.

HELPS TO STUDY

Where does the third stanza tell | What bird is mentioned in conus that spring has been?

nection with the Iceland lakes ? What was the result of her visit Why is not a singing bird menthere

tioned instead of this bird ? Why could not the fisher go out What was the chain which bound before spring came?

the streams before the coming What places mentioned in the of spring ?

fourth stanza show how far | Select the words from the fifth spring has traveled ?

stanza which tell of the moveWhat is the name of the night ment of the waters.

bird” which sings through the Read the line which you like best “starry time''?

in this stanza.

Words and Phrases for Study

PRONUNCIATION:

an'-cient (shěnt) tăs'-sels

lyre
vēr'-důre

I-tăl'-ian (i-tăl'-yăn)
His-pē’-ri-ăn

VOCABULARY:

trāce-to follow by some mark, foosteps, or tracks. ré-sounds'—to throw back the sound; to echo. sprāy-water or other liquid flying in small drops.

WORDS AND PHRASES:

"wakening earth'
“primrose-stars”
"shadowy grass”
"breathed on the South'
"ancient graves''
“growing sigh”

“starry time!
“fallen fanes’’-ruins of temples.
"sparry caves''
“Hesperian clime'' - western

lands.
"silvery main”

JACK IN THE PULPIT

CLARA SMITH Clara Smith is not a well-known writer, but her poem “Jack in the Pulpit” is full of beauty.

1
Jack in the pulpit

Preaches today,
Under the green trees

Just over the way,

Squirrel and song-sparrow,

High on their perch, Hear the sweet lily-bells

Ringing to church.
Come hear what his reverence

Rises to say
In his low, painted pulpit

This calm Sabbath day.

Meek-faced anemones,

Drooping and sad; Great yellow violets,

Smiling out glad; Buttercups' faces,

Beaming and bright; Clovers with bonnets,

Some red and some white; Daisies, their white fingers

Half-clasped in prayer; Dandelions, proud of

The gold of their hair; Innocents, children

Guileless and frail, Meek little faces

Upturned and pale; Wildwood geraniums,

All in their best, Languidly leaning,

In purple gauze dressedAll are assembled

This sweet Sabbath day To hear what the priest

In his pulpit will say.