SUMMER WOODS MARY HOWITT NOME ye into the summer woods; All greenly wave the chestnut leaves, I cannot tell you half the sights There, lightly swung in bowery glades, And the dark-blue columbine. There grows the four-leaved plant, "true love," And the wood forget-me-not. And many a merry bird is there, The blue-winged jay, the woodpecker, Come down, and ye shall see them all, For their sweet life of pleasantness, And far within that summer wood, There come the little gentle birds, Down to the murmuring water's edge, And dash about and splash about, The merry little things; And look askance with bright black eyes, And flirt their dripping wings. I've seen the freakish squirrels drop The little squirrels with the old; Great joy it was to me! And down unto the running brook, I've seen them nimbly go; And the bright water seemed to speak A welcome kind and low. The nodding plants they bowed their heads As if in heartsome cheer: They spake unto these little things, "'Tis merry living here!" Oh, how my heart ran o'er with joy! And how we might glean up delight And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there, The green shoots grow above their heads, And roots so fresh and fine Beneath their feet; nor is there strife 'Mong them for mine and thine. There is enough for every one, We might learn a lesson all of us, VIOLETS JOHN MOULTRIE INDER the green hedges after the snow, UND There do the dear little violets grow, Hiding their modest and beautiful heads Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds. Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky, Down there do the dear little violets lie; Hiding their heads where they scarce may be seen, N THE BABIE HUGH MILLER AE shoon to hide her tiny taes, Nae stockings on her feet; Her supple ankles white as snow, Or early blossoms sweet. Her simple dress of sprinkled pink, Her een sae like her mither's een, |