Page:Morning-Glories and Other Stories.djvu/50

Rh me, because I love your race, and often hear wonder-stories of you from the humming-birds that live among my flowers."

Lifting her dim eyes, Moss saw a child's pitying face above her; but she could only smile her thanks and kiss the small hand where she lay. Placing the elf on a vine-leaf that fluttered in the wind, the child went back to her wheel, for no bee was busier than she; and as she spun, she sang like any bird, because the blind old grandmother, knitting in the sun, loved to hear her cheery voice above the music of the wheel.

O flower at my window,
 * Why blossom you so fair,

With your green and purple cup
 * Upturned to sun and air?

'I bloom, blithesome Bessie,
 * To cheer your childish heart;

The world is full of labor,
 * And this shall be my part.'
 * Whirl, busy wheel, faster,
 * Spin, little thread, spin;
 * The sun shines fair without,
 * And we are gay within.

O robin in the tree-top,
 * With sunshine on your breast,

Why brood you so patiently
 * Above your hidden nest?

'I brood, blithesome Bessie,
 * And sing my humble song,

That the world may have more music
 * From my little ones erelong.'
 * Whirl, busy wheel, faster.
 * Spin, little thread, spin,
 * The sun shines fair without.
 * And we are gay within.