ri'-val—to try to reach something or obtain something which another has, or is trying to obtain.

Alice Cary (1820-1871), an American poet, was born in Cincinnati. She and her sister, Phoebe, wrote many well-known poems and sketches. They removed to New York City and lived together there.

1

THE leaves are fading and falling,

The winds are rough and wild,
The birds have ceased their calling,
But let me tell you, my child,

2

Though day by day, as it closes,
Doth darker and colder grow,
The roots of the bright red roses
Will keep alive in the snow.

Ella Higginson (1862- ), an American writer, lives in Bellingham, on Puget Sound, Washington. She won a $500 prize offered by a magazine for the best short story.

1

I KNOW a place where the sun is like gold,
And the cherry blooms burst with snow;
And down underneath is the loveliest nook,
Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

2

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,

And one is for love, you know,

But God put another in for luck—

If you search, you will find where they grow.

3

But you must have hope, and you must have faith,
You must love and be strong, and so,

If you work, if you wait, you will find the place
Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

TIRED OF PLAY

NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS

Nathaniel Parker Willis (1806-1867) was an American poet. He was born in Maine. His father was the founder of the "Youth's Companion."

1

TIRED of play! tired of play!

What hast thou done this livelong day?

The birds are silent, and so is the bee;

The sun is creeping up temple and tree;

2

The doves have flown to the sheltering caves,
And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves,
Twilight gathers and day is done,

How hast thou spent it, restless one?

3

Playing? But what hast thou done beside,
To tell thy mother at even-tide?

What promise of morn is left unbroken?
What kind word to thy playmate spoken?

4

Whom hast thou pitied and whom forgiven?
How with thy faults has duty striven?

What hast thou learned by field and hill?
By greenwood path, and singing rill?

5

Well for thee if thou couldst tell
A tale like this of a day spent well,
If thy kind hand has aided distress,
And thou pity hast felt for wretchedness;