Schools, Brothers of the Christian / 2008-11-15 00:00:00
_Emerson_.
There is a tongue in every leaf--
A voice in every rill--
A voice that speaketh everywhere--
In flood and fire, through earth and air,
A tongue that's never still.
_Anon_.
* * * * *
_10_
blithe
whistler
mellow
replied
cheery
skylark
HELPING MOTHER.
As I went down the street to-day,
I saw a little lad
Whose face was just the kind of face
To make a person glad.
It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
So cheerful and so bright,
It made me think of apple-time.
And filled me with delight.
I saw him busy at his work,
While blithe as skylark's song
His merry, mellow whistle rang
The pleasant street along.
"Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
I thought as I passed by;
"These busy, cheery, whistling boys
Make grand men by and by."
Just then a playmate came along,
And leaned across the gate--
A plan that promised lots of fun
And frolic to relate.
"The boys are waiting for us now,
So hurry up!" he cried;
My little whistler shook his head,
And "Can't come," he replied.
"Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
What hinders?" asked the other.
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