"I," shouted Ted, "for I can run, With my high-top boots and rain-coat on, Through every puddle and runlet and pool I find on the road to school."
The rain is raining all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea.
[Footnote 3: _From "Poems and Ballads," copyright, 1895, 1896, by· Chas. Scribner's Sons._]
So soft and gentle falls the rain, You cannot hear it on the pane; For if it came in pelting showers, 'Twould hurt the budding leaves and flowers.
If all were rain and never sun, No bow could span the hill; If all were sun and never rain, There'd be no rainbow still.
Bees don't care about the snow; I can tell you why that's so:
Once I caught a little bee Who was much too warm for me.
In little Annie's garden Grew all sorts of posies; There were pinks, and mignonette, And tulips, and roses.
Sweet peas, and morning glories, A bed of violets blue, And marigolds, and asters, In Annie's garden grew.
There the bees went for honey, And the humming-birds too; And there the pretty butterflies And the lady-birds flew.
And there among her flowers, Every bright and pleasant day, In her own pretty garden Little Annie went to play.
I'm a pretty little thing, Always coming with the spring; In the meadows green I'm found, Peeping just above the ground; And my stalk is covered flat With a white and yellow hat. Little lady, when you pass Lightly o'er the tender grass, Skip about, but do not tread On my meek and lowly head; For I always seem to say, Surely winter's gone away.
Pussy Willow wakened From her Winter nap, For the frolic Spring Breeze On her door would tap.
"It is chilly weather Though the sun feels good; I will wrap up warmly; Wear my furry hood."
Mistress Pussy Willow Opened wide her door; Never had the sunshine Seemed so bright before.
Never had the brooklet Seemed so full of cheer; "Good morning, Pussy Willow, Welcome to you, dear!"
Never guest was quainter:-- Pussy came to town In a hood of silver gray And a coat of brown.
Happy little children Cried with laugh and shout, "Spring is coming, coming, Pussy Willow's out."
How do the pussy-willows grow? How do the meadow violets blow? How do the brooklet's waters flow? Gold-Locks wants to know.