er rain,
Spells that make the sad heart happy,
Sleep that cures the deepest pain.
Cheeks that bloom like summer roses,
Smiling lips and eyes that shine,
Come to those who climb the mountain,
Find and taste the fairy wine.
I am calling, I am calling,
As I ripple, run, and sing;
Who will listen, who will listen,
To the story of the spring?"

"Where is it; oh, where is it?" cried May, when the song ended; for she
longed to see this lovely place and enjoy these beautiful things.

"Go up higher, go up higher,
Far beyond the waterfall.
Follow Echo up the mountain,
She will answer to your call.
Bird and butterfly and blossom,
All will help to show the way;
Lose no time, the day is going,
Find the spring, dear little May,"

sung the brook; and the child was enchanted to hear the sweet voice
talking to her of this pleasant journey.

"Yes, I will go at once. I am ready, and have no fear, for the woods are
full of friends, and I long to see the mountain top; it must be so
lovely up there," she said, looking through the green arches where the
brook came dancing down over the rocks, far away to the gray peak,
hidden in clouds.

There lay the fairy spring, and she was going to find it. No one would
miss her, for she often played all day in the forest and went home with
the lambs at night. The brook said, "Make haste!" so away she went over
the wall, with Skip leaping before her, as if to show the safest stones
to set her little feet on. Iris waved the raspberry-sprays, to attract
her with the ripe fruit, and when the basket was nearly full, Blue-bird
flew from tree to tree to lead her on further into the wood. Brownie
dodged behind the rocks and fallen logs, waiting for his turn to come,
as he had a fine surprise for the little traveller by and by.

It was a lovely road, and May went happily on, with thick moss
underneath, shady boughs overhead, flowers to nod and smile at her, and
friends to guard, guide, and amuse her. Every ant stopped work to see
her pass; every mosquito piped his little song in her ear; birds leaned
out of their nests to bid her good-day, and the bright-eyed snakes,
fearing to alarm her, hid under the leaves. But lovely butterflies flew
round her in clouds; and she looked like a pretty one herself, with her
blue gown and sunny hair blowing in the wind.

So she came at last to the waterfall. Here the brook too