The little Pussy-Willow stirred in her snug little bed . “ Oh I ” cried she , “ Why will the brook insist on chattering ? How can I sleep ?” She snuggled down again , but again her sleep was interrupted . This time by the twittering of a robin , who chirped , chirped , “ Spring has come ! Spring has come 1 “ In a moment Pussy-Willow was out of her warm little bed , shaking out her fluffy white fur in the gentle breeze . “ Oh ! How good it is to be alive ,” she sighed . “ How warm the sun is 1 ” Good morning , little Brook ! Good day , Mr . Robin !” she called , as she swayed to and fro on her branch and added her beauty to that already assembled at the Court of Spring , and her voice of joy to “ Earth ’ s Thousand Voices .” \ . S .
The Stream
Swift through mossy banks it flows Gaining power as it goes . Sometimes murmuring , sometimes rumbling , Over waterfalls goes tumbling — Tossing , sighing in its motion On to meet a great big ocean .
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-J - B .