HOW dreary would the meadow be   

In the pleasant summer light, 

Suppose there wasn't a bird to sing, 

And suppose the grass was white. 

And dreary would the garden be, 

With all its flowery trees, 

Suppose there were no butterflies, 

And suppose there were no bees. 

And what would all the beauty be, 

And what the song that cheers, 

Suppose we hadn't eyes, 

And suppose we hadn't ears 

For though the grass were gay and green, 

And songbirds fill the glen, 

And the air was purple with butterflies, 

What good would they do us then? 

Ah! Think of it, my little friends; 

And when some pleasure flies, 

Why, let it go, and still be glad 

That you have ears and eyes. 

The Little Star