  YOU dear old Mother Nature, I am writing you a letter, To let you know you ought to fix up things a little better. The best of us will make mistakes—I thought perhaps if I Should tell you how you might improve, you would be glad to try. “I think you have forgotten, ma’am, that little girls and boys Are fond of dolls, and tops, and sleds, and balls, and other toys; Why didn’t you—I wonder, now!—just take it in your head To have such things all growing in a lovely garden bed? Drinking from a lemonade spring “And then I should have planted (if it only had been me) Some vines with little pickles, and a great big cooky tree; And trees, besides, with gum-drops and caramels and things; And lemonade should bubble up in all the little springs. When old Jack Frost would never get a single chance to try To nip our cheeks and noses; and the Christmas trees should stand By dozens, loaded!—in the woods!—now, wouldn’t that be grand? Picking unusual plants “Ah! what a world it would have been! How could you, madam, make Such lots of bread and butter to so very little cake? I’d have it just the other way, and every one would see How very, very, very, very nice my way would be. “But, as I cannot do it, will you think of what I say? And please, ma’am, do begin and alter things this very day. And one thing more—on Saturdays don’t send us any rain. Good-by. If I should think of something else, I’ll write again.” SYDNEY DAYRE. A boy playing a pipe to a dog A boy and a girl
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