In the morning the path by the river

Sent me a messenger bird,—

“I’m all by myself and lonely,

Come,” as I waked I heard.

I walked the path by the water,

Till a daisy spoke and said,

“I am so tired of shining;

Why don’t you pat my head?”

So I kissed and fondled the daisy,

Till the clover upon the lea

Said, “It is time for eating,

Spread your luncheon on me.”

But first I went to the orchard,

And gathered the fruit that hung,

Before I answered the green-sward,

Where the clovery grasses swung.

Then the rocks on the hill-side called me,

And the flowers beside the way,

And I talked with the oaks and maples

Till Night was threatening Day.

Then I knelt at the foot of the sunset,

And laid thereon my prayer,

And the angels, star-crowned, hurried

To carry it up the stair.

And this was the plea I put there:

Make me so pure and good

That I shall be worthy the friendship

Of river, and field, and wood.

Lucia Belle Cook.