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One by one among the gra.s.s, Saying "Pluck me!" as we pa.s.s,-- Scented violets.
By and by there'll be so many, We'll pluck dozens nor miss any: Sweet, sweet violets!
Children, when you go to play, Look beneath the hedge to-day:-- Mamma likes violets.
Dinah Maria Mulock.
_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 s.h.i.+eld 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, oh!
I'll keep for my dear."
Said young Dandelion On his hedge-side, "Who'll me rely on?
Who'll be my bride?"
Dinah Maria Mulock.
_Baby Seed Song_
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark?
Here we lie cosily, close to each other: Hark to the song of the lark-- "Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you; Put on your green coats and gay, Blue sky will s.h.i.+ne on you, suns.h.i.+ne caress you-- Waken! 'tis morning--'tis May!"
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, What kind of flower will you be?
I'll be a poppy--all white, like my mother; Do be a poppy like me.
What! you're a sun-flower? How I shall miss you When you're grown golden and high!
But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you; Little brown brother, good-bye.
E. Nesbit.
_A Violet Bank_
I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows: Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk roses and with eglantine.
William Shakespeare.
_There's Nothing Like the Rose_
The lily has an air, And the snowdrop a grace, And the sweet-pea a way, And the hearts-ease a face,-- Yet there's nothing like the rose When she blows.
Christina G. Rossetti.
_Snowdrops_
Little ladies, white and green, With your spears about you, Will you tell us where you've been Since we lived without you?
You are sweet, and fresh, and clean, With your pearly faces; In the dark earth where you've been, There are wondrous places:
Yet you come again, serene, When the leaves are hidden; Bringing joy from where you've been, You return unbidden--
Little ladies, white and green, Are you glad to cheer us?
Hunger not for where you've been, Stay till Spring be near us!
Laurence Alma Tadema.
_Fern Song_
