THE Proud Poppies



THERE bloomed in a lovely garden

A group of poppies gay,

 A mother and grown-up daughters,—

And splendid clothes had they.

"Just see how they all admire us,

Because so gaily dressed!

Our robes of scarlet and purple

By far outshine the rest.

"The rose's satin seems faded,

Marigold's yellow crown

Looks dim, and pray, who could fancy

Lily's colorless gown?"

So they shook their silken dresses,

And spread their skirts out wide,

And danced in the golden sunshine,

In a flutter of foolish pride.

Just then a passing zephyr

Gave them a playful shake;

O poppies! Without your garments

A pitiful sight you make.

On the ground their shining dresses,

Purple and scarlet gay,

All crushed, and ragged, and dusty,

In dire confusion lay.

Quickly their beauty had vanished,

Gone was their silly pride,

And nobody cared for the poppies,

Whether they lived or died.

The lesson my story teaches

The children have surely guessed:

Better be modest and humble

Than ever so gaily dressed.




Youth's Companion.