THE HAPPY BUD.
A BUD droops low on a grassy lea,
She does not know what her fate will be;
So she waits, and longs, and sips the dew,
And sings the song that I sing to you:
"I am so small,
And the world so wide,
The trees are so tall
That whisper and call
By the brooklet's side,
That I could not see,
Should I open my eyes,
The sunny lea,
Or the waters free,
Or the beautiful skies.
"So foolish I seem,
And the world so wise,
That I cannot dream
What flowers will gleam
When I greet the skies.
"But though I'm so small,
And the world is so wide,
Though the trees are so tall
That whisper and call
By the brooklet's side,
I'll do my best
To be sweet and bright!
And I'll work and wait
For a worthy fate,
Till I find the light."
O happy bud on the grassy lea!
Filled with the beauty that is to be;
Well may she trust to the sun and dew,
As she sings the song that I sing to you.
—St. Nicholas.