hings seem, oh!
Wake up, wake up, dear Sleepy Head,
'Twas nothing but a dream, oh.

But who can tell? Some other night
When mellow shines the moon, oh,
Perhaps we'll dream the dream again
And may that night come soon, oh!

THE MAGIC FLOWER

Once upon a time there lived a wee woman whose bit of a garden was a
delight to all eyes.

Such flowers as she had! And in the midst of them, green as an emerald
and smooth as velvet, was a grass plot with never a weed upon it. And
through the grass ran a garden walk as white as snow. Every one who
saw it declared there was no prettier garden in the king's country and
what they said was no more than what was true.

Early and late the wee woman worked to keep her garden fair and lovely
but in spite of all her care whenever the east wind blew it brought
with it a whirl of trash from her neighbor's dooryard, and scattered
it among her flowers.

Alack and alas, what a dooryard was that! Except for the trash that
was always upon it, it was as bare as the palm of your hand; and there
was a heap of dirt and ashes as high as a hillock in front of the
door. Everybody who passed it turned their eyes away from it, for
there was no uglier spot in the king's country; and that is nothing
but the truth of it.

Whenever the wee woman looked from her windows or walked in her garden
she saw the dooryard and many was the day when she said to herself:

"I wish I were a thousand miles away from it;" and if she made up her
mind, as sometimes she did, that she would trouble no more about it,
the east wind was sure to come with a whirl of its trash. Oh, it
seemed as if she were always cleaning because of that dooryard!

And what to do about it she did not know. She puzzled and planned, she
wished and she worked, but she had come to the end of her wits when,
one day, her fairy godmother came to see her.

"Never fret," said the godmother when she had heard the trouble. "In
your own garden grows a magic flower that can set things right; and if
you will only tend it and watch it and wait long enough you shall see
what you shall see."

And when she had pointed out the flower she went on her way, leaving
the wee woman much comforted.

She tended the flower and watched it and waited to see what she should
see; and while she was watching and waiting, the flower burst into
bloom. The loveliest bloom! Every blossom was as rosy as the little
clouds at sunrise; and the