BUTTERCUP, POPPY, FORGET-ME-NOT.

Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not,— These three bloomed in a garden spot; And once, all merry with song and play, A little one heard three voices say: "Shine or shadow, summer or spring, O thou child with the tangled hair And laughing eyes, we three shall bring Each an offering, passing fair!" The little one did not understand; But they bent and kissed the dimpled hand.

Buttercup gambolled all day long, Sharing the little one's mirth and song; Then, stealing along on misty gleams, Poppy came, bringing the sweetest dreams, Playing and dreaming, that was all, Till once the sleeper would not awake; Kissing the little face under the pall, We thought of the words the third flower spake, And we found, betimes, in a hallowed spot, The solace and peace of Forget-me-not.

Buttercup shareth the joy of day, Glinting with gold the hours of play; Bringeth the Poppy sweet repose, When the hands would fold and the eyes would close. And after it all,—the play and the sleep Of a little life,—what cometh then? To the hearts that ache and the eyes that weep, A wee flower bringeth God's peace again: Each one serveth its tender lot,— Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not,—