THE warm June day was full

Of color as it could hold;

"Now, which is the sweetest blue,

And which is the brightest gold,

In all that your little eyes can see,

In cloud-land, earth, or the water-world?"

I said to the children three.

We were on the fresh new grass,

And the pretty hammock hung

Like a web between the trees,

And in it the baby swung.

'Twas as if a spider, busy and sly,

Had spun its meshes there, white and light,

And caught a butterfly.

A moment's silence fell

On all, till Teddy guessed—

He had eyes for every bird,

And eyes, too, for its nest—

And he cried—the eager little soul—

"The bluest blue is the bluebird,

And gold is the oriole."

Then Flora, who loved flowers,

But had not spoken yet,

Whispered that gold was a crocus,

And blue a violet.

And Edith, the more emphatic one,

Said: "No; the bluest blue is the sky,

And the goldenest gold the sun!"

I pointed to the web

That swung so white and light,

In which the baby cooed

As a nestling pigeon might;

"I can answer best of all," I said,

"For there is in water-world, earth or skies

No blue so sweet as that baby's eyes,

No gold so bright as his head!"