EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER

I know the song that the bluebird is singing, Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging: Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary: Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat— 5 Hark! was there ever so merry a note? Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying, Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying. "Dear little blossoms, down under the snow, You must be weary of winter, I know; 10 Hark while I sing you a message of cheer— Summer is coming! and spring-time is here! "Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise; Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes; Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, 5 Put on your mantles of purple and gold: Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?— Summer is coming! and spring-time is here!"