SWEET GOOD-DAY.

"We are fading, little children; One by one, we flutter down; For the winds are harsh and chilly, And the meadows, bare and brown. We are fading," leaves of purple, Leaves of amber, softly say; "But we'll meet you in the May-time, Our merry, merry play-time: Little children, sweet good-day!" "We are going, little children," Sigh the flowers in the sun; "Oh! we soon shall end our singing," Lisp the brooklets as they run; And the birds, with silver warble, Long before they wing away, Pipe, "We'll meet you in the May-time, Our merry, merry play-time: Little children, sweet good-day!"