ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



8 9 



MAY. 



CAN it be that it is snowing, 

 On this clear and sunny day? 

 Are the snow-flakes thickly falling 

 In the pleasant month of May ? 



No, it is the apple blossoms 



Falling, falling from the trees, 



Dancing in a whirl of rapture 

 To the music of the breeze. 



Till the orchard grass is covered 

 With a carpet pure and white ; 



Like the crystal snow of winter 

 Dipped in rosy sunset light. 



May, the month of song and story, 

 Singing birds and fairest flowers; 



May, the month of nature's glory, 



Sunshine bright and gentle showers. 



Listen to the robins singing 



'Mid the branches of the trees; 



Listen to the blue-birds' carol 

 And the drowsy hum of bees. 



All the land is filled with sunshine, 

 Every heart is light and gay, 



Nature smiles upon her children 

 For it is the month of May. 



May, the month of song and story, 

 Singing birds and fairest flowers; 



May, the month of nature's glory, 



Sunshine bright and gentle showers. 



WM. G. PARK. 



A BUTTERCUP. 



A LITTLE yellow buttercup 

 Stood laughing in the sun; 

 The grass all green around it, 

 The summer just begun! 

 Its saucy little head abrim 

 With happiness and fun. 



Near by grown old and gone to seed, 



A dandelion grew. 

 To right and left with ever}- breeze 



His snowy tissues flew. 

 He shook his saucy head and said: 

 " I've some advice for you. 



" Don't think because you're yellow now, 



That golden days will last; 

 I was as gay as you are, once; 



But now my youth is past. 

 This day will be my last to bloom; 



The hours are going fast. 



" Perhaps your fun may last a week, 



But then you'll have to die." 

 The dandelion ceased to speak. 



A breeze that capered by 

 Snatched all the white hairs from his head; 

 And wafted them on high. 



His yellow neighbor first looked sad, 



Then, cheering up, he said: 

 ' If one's to live in fear of death, 

 One might as well be dead." 



The little buttercup laughed on, 

 And waved his golden head. 



K. C. 



