A Little Song

A RIPPLE and a rush, and a mating thrush, And, oh! the month must be at May. A blossom and a tree, and a honey-bee, And, oh! it’s such a perfect day!

A meeting and a smile, and a sunlit mile, And, oh! the world is very young. Come winter, storm or cold, Love never can grow old, And oh! my little song is sung!