And the wind, at the voice of the drooping dame, Sank in his heart, and ceased for shume. "I am hot, so hot!" she sighed and said; Then the sun, he pitied her pitiful case, "Cloud, go away, and don't be rude; The cloud withdrew, and the harebell cried, "I am faint, so faint! and no water beside!" 66 And the dew came down its million-fold path; But she murmured, "I did not want a bath." 66 A boy came by in the morning gray; The harebell shivered, and cried, "Oh! oh! The wind blew softly, and did not speak. "Sun, dear sun, I am cold," she said. "O rain! I am withering; all the blue The rain came down as fast as it could, She shuddered and shrivelled, and moaning said, "Thank you all kindly;" and then she was dead. Let us hope, let us hope, when she comes next year, She'll be simple and sweet. But I fear, I fear. George Macdonald. SWEET-PEAS. "PLEASE wear my rosebud for love, papa," 66 Said Patience, "This heart's-ease shall whisper, рара, Forget not my love is true." Papa looked into the laughing eyes, And answered, to each little girl's surprise: My darlings, I thank you, but dearer than these Lillian Payson. a THE DAISY AND THE FERN. [If the subjoined poem is not remarkable for its reach of thought, it certainly is remarkable as being only one of a volume written by a little English girl, Maude Edgerton Hine, when less than eight years old. Assuredly Chatterton himself was not more of an infant prodigy than the juvenile author of these lines.] THE day was hot, the sun shone out Who earthward dropped their weary heads. One little daisy, hot and tired "Come, put yourself beneath my shade!" So daisy leaned towards the fern No sunlight fell on her, but, oh! She drooped down low, and lower still, Who once was straight and tall. "Daisy," she said, "I'm dying fast, My time with you is almost past, Then daisy wept, her tears ran down Upon the poor fern's root. A thrill of fast returning life Through the languid fern did shoot! Full soon she grew quite fresh again, LOVELINESS. ONCE I knew a little girl, Very plain; You might try her hair to curl On her cheek no tint of rose Paled and blushed, or sought repose; She was plain. But the thoughts that through her brain As a recompense for pain, So full many a beauteous thing, Every thought was full of grace, And in time the homely face With a heavenly radiance bright, |