Come, come, little snowdrops, the spring is at hand,
Wake up and be glad, all you in flower land.
No cold rough winds are blowing to-day
Only soft breezes do ripple and play.
Jack Frost has gone, and with him the cold,
And all the green buds have begun to unfold.
The sky is so blue, the birds are now singing,
The world is at play, sweet bells are ringing.
P.SAVAGE (age 13), Lower IV.
The little redcapped fellow
Dancing on the green,
Amid the cowslips yellow,
Is often to be seen.
“Whither do you wander,
Little goblin, dear?
Are you going yonder,
Or to meadows near?”
“Yonder I am going,
Over hill and dale.
Where the tree, are blowing
In a mighty gale.”
M. EYRE (age 12).