SMALL BEGINNING.

When the first little crocus peeped out of the ground, And slyly looked round, Not a flower was awake, not a bit of new green Was anywhere seen; And it seemed, with a shiver the little one said, "Oh, I am afraid, The trees are so naked, the earth is so black! Please let me go back! You have called me too early, my dear Mother Spring, I am such a wee thing!"

Then a bluebird whistled, "Oh, no! my dear, It is good you are here; For now we are sure that spring is near." Then a sober old robin came bustling by With the sleep in his eye; "Ah, me! how stupid I was to wait; And now I am late! The bluebird has piped, and the crocus has come; And you know by the hum The hot little bee is beating his drum." Then sweet Mother Spring, with a sunshine kiss, Said something like this: "Thanks, brave little crocus, so slender and small, For heeding my call While orchards were leafless, and snow-drifts staid In the all-day shade: You are telling us sweetly that soonest begun The soonest is done; That little by little makes up the great, And early obeying is better than late."