A DAY.

In the morning the path by the river Sent me a messenger bird,— “I’m all by myself and lonely, Come,” as I waked I heard.

I walked the path by the water, Till a daisy spoke and said, “I am so tired of shining; Why don’t you pat my head?”

So I kissed and fondled the daisy, Till the clover upon the lea Said, “It is time for eating, Spread your luncheon on me.”

But first I went to the orchard, And gathered the fruit that hung, Before I answered the green-sward, Where the clovery grasses swung.

Then the rocks on the hill-side called me, And the flowers beside the way, And I talked with the oaks and maples Till Night was threatening Day.

Then I knelt at the foot of the sunset, And laid thereon my prayer, And the angels, star-crowned, hurried To carry it up the stair.

And this was the plea I put there: Make me so pure and good That I shall be worthy the friendship Of river, and field, and wood. Lucia Belle Cook.