THE FIRST PRIMROSE.

A Primrose awoke from its long winter sleep, And stretched out its head through its green leaves to peep; But the air was so cold, and the wind was so keen, And not a bright flower but itself to be seen. ‘Alas!’ sighed the Primrose, ‘how useless am I, As here all alone and half hidden I lie; But I’ll strive to be cheerful, contented to be, Just a simple wild flower growing under a tree.’ Soon a maiden passed by, looking weary and sad, In the bright early spring-time, when all should be glad, But she spied the sweet Primrose so bright and so gay, And the sight of it charmed all her sadness away; And the Primrose gave thanks to the dear Lord above, Who had sent it on such a sweet mission of love.