A Little Song
A RIPPLE and a rush, and a mating thrash,
And, oh! the month must be at May.
A blossom and a tree, and a honey-bee,
And, oh! it’s such a perfect day!
A meeting and a smile, and a sunlit mile.
And, oh! the world is very young.
Come winter, storm or cold.
Love never can grow old.
And oh! my little song is sung!
