O busy, happy children!

That light French heart of yours, Would it might sometimes enter at Our solemn English doors!

Would that we worked as gaily, And played, yes, played as well, And lived our lives as simply As Monsieur et Mademoiselle.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

YOUNG DANDELION

YOUNG Dandelion On a hedge-side, Said young Dandelion, "Who'll be my bride?

"I'm a bold fellow As ever was seen, With my shield of yellow, In the gra.s.s green.

"You may uproot me, From field and from lane, Trample me, cut me,-- I spring up again.

"I never flinch, Sir, Wherever I dwell; Give me an inch, Sir.

I'll soon take an ell.

"Drive me from garden In anger and pride, I'll thrive and harden By the road-side.

"Not a bit fearful, Showing my face, Always so cheerful In every place."

Said young Dandelion, With a sweet air, "I have my eye on Miss Daisy fair.

"Though we may tarry Till past the cold, Her I will marry Ere I grow old.

"I will protect her From all kinds of harm, Feed her with nectar, Shelter her warm.

"Whate'er the weather, Let it go by; We'll hold together, Daisy and I.

"I'll ne'er give in,--no!

Nothing I fear: All that I win, O!

I'll keep for my dear."

Said young Dandelion On his hedge-side, "Who'll me rely on?

Who'll be my bride?"

A SEPTEMBER ROBIN

MY eyes are full, my silent heart is stirred, Amid these days so bright Of ceaseless warmth and light; Summer that will not die, Autumn, without one sigh O'er sweet hours pa.s.sing by-- Cometh that tender note Out of thy tiny throat, Like grief, or love, insisting to be heard, O little plaintive bird!

No need of word Well know I all your tale--forgotten bird!

Soon you and I together Must face the winter weather, Remembering how we sung Our primrose fields among, In days when life was young; Now, all is growing old, And the warm earth's a-cold, Still, with brave heart we'll sing on, little bird, Sing only. Not one word.