Come ©ut-

Comer out, come out, to meadows
wide,
Your books and work forsaking ;

Along the brimming brooklet’s side
The daffodils are waking.

Forth they troop in gowns of green,
And don their caps of yellow,
And blithest dancers ever seen,

Each nods to nodding fellow.

They whisper, whisper, while the
breeze
Their dainty heads is swaying;

And you, and I, and birds, and
bees,
Can hear that they are saying

“Come out, come out, ye children
: sweet,
And chase the gleams and shadows

That fly, on gold and purple feet,
Across the fragrant meadows.”

flelen Marton Burnside.