GATHERING FLOWERS.

Ou! who will come gathering fowers with me?
Away to the hills with the lark and the bee,

In the bright early morning when day’s just begun,
When the buds are all opening their eyes to the sun.

See, the flowers now open and hold themselves up,
As they scatter the dewdrops from each little cup;
They shine and they sparkle in morning’s glad light,
Refreshed by the rest and the dews of the night. :

~

Hark! the birds in the branches now rustle and stir,
And the rabbits, aroused, shake the moss from their fur;
- From his nest in the meadow the lark gaily springs, *

And wakes all the world as he joyously sings.

The fields are all yellow, the light of the sun
Comes dancing along, brimming over with fun;
The air seems to shake with the buzz of the bee—

Oh! who will come gathering flowers with me?