Clover-Blossom by Louisa May Alcott — Read

In a quiet, pleasant meadow, / Beneath a summer sky, / Where green old trees their branches waved, / And winds went singing by; / Where a little brook went rippling / So musically low, / And passing clouds cast shadows / On the waving grass below; / Where low, sweet notes of brooding birds / Stole out on the fragrant air, / And golden sunlight shone undimmed / On all most fresh and fair; - / There bloomed a lovely sisterhood / Of happy little flowers, / Together in this pleasant home, / Through quiet summer hours. / No rude hand came to gather them, / No chilling winds to blight; / Warm sunbeams smiled on them by day, / And soft dews fell at night. / So here, along the brook-side, / Beneath the green old trees, / The flowers dwelt among their friends, / The sunbeams and the breeze.

One morning, as the flowers awoke, / Fragrant, and fresh, and fair, / A little worm came creeping by, / And begged a shelter there. / "Ah! pity and love me," sighed the worm, / "I am lonely, poor, and weak; / A little spot for a resting-place, / Dear flowers, is all I seek. / I am not fair, and have dwelt unloved / By butterfly, bird, and bee. / They little knew that in this dark form / Lay the beauty they yet may see. / Then let me lie in the deep green moss, / And weave my little tomb, / And sleep my long, unbroken sleep / Till Spring's first flowers come. / Then will I come in a fairer dress, / And your gentle care repay / By the grateful love of the humble worm; / Kind flowers, O let me stay! " / But the wild rose showed her little thorns, / While her soft face glowed with pride; / The violet hid beneath the drooping ferns, / And the daisy turned aside.