INVITATIONS.

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T he daffodils are nodding;
There's a swaying of the trees;
The playroom window rattles
To the fragrant summer breeze.
There is sunshine in the garden,
And the bees are all a-hum.
Oh, hark, the invitation:
'You must come, come, come!'
The butterfly is glancing
On his wings of golden hue;
Ah! see where now he loiters
O'er that bed of pansies blue;
A moment since he hovered
At this very window-pane,
To see if we were coming
To the garden and the lane.
Hats! hats! for those who want them,;
Boots! boots!—oh, lace them, do!
Fling open doors and windows,
To let the sunshine through!
When birds and bees and blossoms
Invite us out to play,
Oh, who could well refuse them
Upon so bright a day?

John Lea.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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