Volume 13 — THE WILD FLOWERS.

The violet blooms in a shady place Where the sun comes peeping through; The hare-bell grows on gray old rocks And shows its robes of blue.

The May-flower grows on a wooded hill At the foot of the green old pines, Where the ferns and moss in clusters show And the checker-berry twines.

These all grow in the fairest bowers; There is no room for the daisy flowers.

So the daisy grows by the dusty road, Sweet and sunny and shy, Lifting its pretty, modest head To nod to each passer-by.

"Why do you grow by the roadside, dear? It is all dust and sand; Come to the violet's shady nook, Or join the Mayflower's band."

But the daisy said: "The violet's place Is better for her, you see; And the May-flower's place is better for her; And mine is the best for me."