ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. -157 



THE NATIONAL FLOWER. 



THEY have asked me to vote for a national flower; 

 Now, which will it be, I wonder ! 

 To settle the question is out of my power: 

 But I'd rather not make a blunder. 



And I love the Mayflower the best, in May, 



Smiling up from its snow-drift-cover, 

 With its breath that is sweet as a kiss, to say 



That the reign of winter is over. 



And I love the Golden-rod, too, for its gold ; 



And because through autumn it lingers, 

 And offers more wealth than his hands can hold 



To the grasp of the poor man's fingers. 



I should like to vote for them both, if I might ; 



But I do not feel positive whether 

 The flowers themselves would be neighborly quite ; 



Pink and yellow don't go together. 



O yes, but they do ! in the breezy wild rose, 



The darlingest daughter of summer, 

 Whose heart with the sun's yellow gold overflows, 



And whose blushes so well become her. 



Instead of one flower, I will vote for three : 

 The Mayflowers know that I mean them ; 



And the Golden-rod surely my choice will be, 

 With the sweet Brier-rose between them. 



You see I'm impartial. I've no way but this : 



My vote, with a rhyme and a reason, 

 For the Mayflower, the Wild Rose, and Golden-rod, is; 



A blossom for every season ! . 



St. Nicholas, September, 1889. LUCY LARCOM. 



APRIL. 



WHEN April, one day, was asked whether 

 She could make reliable weather, 

 She laughed till she cried, 

 And said " Bless you, I've tried, 



But the things will get mixed up together." 

 St. Xichohis, May, 1889, JESSIE McDERMOTT. 



