LITTLE Pearl Honeydew, six years old,
Their cheeks were blushing, their breath was sweet, She could almost hear their little hearts beat;
“Little friends,” she said, “I wish I knew
“You wish you knew? and so do we!
“Tucked up snugly, and nestled below
“When the swallows fly home to the old brown shed, And the robins build on the bough overhead,
“Good children then, if they come near,
“Our clocks are the flowers; and they count the hours Till we can mellow in suns and showers,
“Apple-blooms whiten, and peach-blooms fall,
“The days are longest, the month is June,
“Just take us betwixt your finger and thumb —
“O dear! if you only knew how it shocks
And this is the story the small lips told
J. T. Trowbridge.
Our Young Folks