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.