then, of a sudden, its limbs were dressed
(The better to sleep) in a soft white gown.

The maples and beeches and oaks and all--
When summer was over, each cool green tent
Seemed suddenly turned to a banquet hall,
Pavilions with banners, a flaming wall!
And then all was gone and their glory spent.

Then quickly the sky shook her blankets out,
And robes that were softer than wool to don
She gave all her children the winds to flout--
I wish I knew what they are dreaming about,
So quiet and still with their white gowns on!

A SUMMER HOLIDAY

Can you guess where I have been?
On the hillsides fresh and green!
Out where all the winds are blowing,
Where the free, bright streamlet's flowing
Leap and laugh and race and run
Like a child that's full of fun!--
Crinkle, crinkle through the meadows,
Hiding in the woodland shadows;
Making here and there a pool
In some leafy covert cool
For the Lady Birch to see
Just how fair and sweet is she.

Can you guess where I have been?
By a brook where willows lean;
With a book whereon to look,
In some little shady nook,
If that I should weary grow
Of that lovelier book I know
Whose sweet leaves the wind is turning--
Full of lessons for my learning.
There are little songs to hear
If you bend a listening ear;
And no printed book can be
Half so dear and sweet to me.

TWO POCKETS

There are two bulging pockets that I have in mind.
Just listen and see if the owners you'll find.
In one--it's quite shocking--there's a round wad of gum,
A china doll's head and a half finished sum,
A thimble, a handkerchief--sticky, I fear--
A dolly's blue cap and some jackstones are here.
In the other are marbles and fishhooks and strings,
Some round shiny stones and a red top that sings,
A few apple cores and a tin full of bait,
A big black jack-knife in a sad bladeless state.
And now I wonder how many can guess
Which pocket Bob owns and which one does Bess?

REBECCA DEMING MOORE.

MY HORSE

I give my pony corn and hay,
With oats to tempt him twice a week;
I smooth and curry every day
Until his coat is bright and sleek;
At night he has a cosy stall;
He does not seem to care at all.

I mount him often, hurriedly,
And ride him fast and ride him far;
With whip and spur I make him fly
Along the road where robbers are;
But when I