SEPTEMBER 217 



" Do you not know, you wicked Bee ! 

 That the days of the week are seven : 

 Six long days for work and play, 

 The seventh for rest and Heaven ? 



" I know, but even on Sabbath days 

 A hungry Bee must dine, 

 And so I must work for my dinner sweet 

 Of honey and clover- wine. 



" Beside, I have been to the forest church, 

 Where the great pine-trees form aisles, 

 And with their branches weave the roof 

 Through which the glad sun smiles. 



" On pine-leaf organ the west wind played, 

 While birds, a tuneful throng, 

 With brook and insect and whispering reeds, 

 Carry the psalm along. 



" The Cardinal Flower, in crimson dressed, 

 His hands in prayer did raise 

 And in his sermon did repeat 

 Our great Creator's praise. 



" ' What was his text ? ' The words that I 

 To the clover blooms sing low, 

 That the Summer winds to the rushes tell, 

 That I hear in the brooklets' flow : 



" That the waves lisp murmuring to the shore 

 In a dreamy soft refrain ; 

 That the snowflakes tell to the winter woods, 

 That the flowers learn from the rain. 



" The same glad words that the calm stars sing 

 In the quiet skies above, 

 In one grand chorus, ' Life is sweet 

 And God is Eternal Love.' " 



