Quoth the Buttercup, "I Have not been at all shy In impressing that rule On each child of the school."
"I've touched the same subject," Said Timothy Grass. "'Leave just a few flowers!' I beg, as they pass."
Sighed a shy little Fern, From her home in the shade, "About pulling up roots, What a protest I've made!"
"The children are heedless!" The Gentian declared, "When my blossom-time comes, Not a bud will be spared."
"Take courage, sweet neighbor!" The Violet said; And raised in entreaty Her delicate head.
"The children are thoughtless, I own, in my turn; But if we _all_ teach them, They cannot but learn."
"The lesson," said the Alders, "Is a simple one, indeed, _Where no root is, blooms no flower,_ _Where no flower is, no seed."_
"'Tis very well said!" chirped the Robin, From the elm tree fluttering down; "If you'll write on your leaves such a lesson, I'll distribute them over the town."
"Oh, write it, dear Alders!" the Innocents cried, Their pretty eyes tearfully blue; "You are older than we are; you're strong and you're wise-- There's none but would listen to you!"
But, ah! the Alders could not write; And though the Robin knew The art as well as any bird-- Or so he said--he flew Straight up the hill and far away, Remarking as he went, He had a business errand And was not on pleasure bent.
Did the children learn the lesson, Though 'twas never written down? We shall know when, gay and blithesome, Lady Summer comes to town.
Twenty froggies went to school Down beside a rushy pool. Twenty little coats of green, Twenty vests all white and clean.
"We must be in time," said they, "First we study, then we play; That is how we keep the rule, When we froggies go to school."
Master Bull-frog, brave and stern, Called his classes in their turn, Taught them how to nobly strive, Also how to leap and dive;
Taught them how to dodge a blow, From the sticks that bad boys throw. Twenty froggies grew up fast, Bull-frogs they became at last;
Polished in a high degree, As each froggie ought to be, Now they sit on other logs, Teaching other little frogs.
The Snail he lives in his hard round house, In the orchard, under the tree: Says he, "I have but a single room; But it's large enough for me."
The Snail in his little house doth dwell All the week from end to end, You're at home, Master Snail; that's all very well, But you never receive a friend.