"Were it not for me,"

"Not a single flower on earth would be;

For under the ground they soundly sleep

And never venture an upward peep,

"I tell Jack Frost when 'tis time to go

And carry away the ice and snow;

And then I hint to the jolly old sun,

'A little spring work, sir, should be done.'

And I keep up my cheery, cheery sound,

Till echo declares in glee, in glee,

"And then I waken the birds of spring—

'Ho, ho! 'tis time to be on the wing.'

They trill and twitter and soar aloft,

And I send the winds to whisper soft,

Down by the little flower-beds,

Saying, 'Come show your pretty heads!

The spring is coming, you see, you see!'

The sun he smiled; and the early flowers

Bloomed to brighten the blithesome hours,

And song-birds gathered in bush and tree;

But the wind he laughed right merrily,

As the saucy mite of a snowbird he

Chirped away, "Do you see, see, see?