‘We are sending you, dear flowers, Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not… O’er the cold graves where you lie… But you go to bring them fadeless…

‘Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are blooming fair. ’But, deep in the dark, cold rock,

Brighter shone the golden shadows; On the cool wind softly came The low, sweet tones of happy flow… Singing little Violet’s name. ‘Mong the green trees was it whisp…

‘Beds to the front of them, Beds to the right of them, Beds to the left of them, Nobody blundered. Beamed at by hungry souls,

Thistledown in prison sings: Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are blooming fair.

From our happy home Through the world we roam One week in all the year, Making winter spring With the joy we bring

‘Here is the bracelet For good little May To wear on her arm By night and by day. When it shines like the sun,

Oft, in the silence of the night, When the lonely moon rides high, When wintry winds are whistling, And we hear the owl’s shrill cry, In the quiet, dusky chamber,

‘I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds, But it does not sing. ’First it is a little grub,

Love comes to all soon or late, And maketh gay or sad; For every bird will find its mate, And every lass a lad,

Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow… Starting on your autumn flight, Pause a moment at my window, Twitter softly your good-night; For the summer days are over,

Four little chests all in a row, Dim with dust, and worn by time, All fashioned and filled, long ago… By children now in their prime. Four little keys hung side by side…

We are sending you, dear flowers Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not… O’er the cold graves where you lie… But you go to bring them fadeless…

“Here’s a nut, there’s a nut; Hide it quick away, In a hole, under leaves, To eat some winter day. Acorns sweet are plenty,

THE moon upon the wide sea Placidly looks down, Smiling with her mild face, Though the ocean frown. Clouds may dim her brightness,