"Stay at home! quoth the flower? — In sooth, not I; 
I'll don my straw hat with a silken tie; 
O'er my neck so fair 
I'll a kerchief wear, 
White, chequered with pink. 
And then — let me think, ^ 
I'll consider my gown, for I'd fain look well:" 
So saying, she stepped o'er the Pimpernel. 
Now the wise little flower, wrapped safe from harm, 
Sat fearlessly waiting the coming storm ; 
Just peeping between 
Her snug cloak of green, 
Lay folded up tight, 
Her robe so bright; 
Though 'broidered with purple, and starred with gold. 
No eye might its bravery then behold. 
The fair maiden straight donned her best array, 
And forth to the festival hied away ; 
But scarce had she gone 
Ere the storm came on ; 
And, 'mid thunder and rain. 
She cried oft and again, 
"Oh ! would I had minded yon boding flower. 
And were safe at home from the pelting shower." 
Now, maidens, the tale that I tell would say, 
Don't don fine clothes on a doubtful day. 
Nor ask advice, when, like many more. 
You had "made up your minds" some time before. 
Louisa A. Twamleij. 
