LITTLE MARY’S SECRET.
BY MRS. L. C. WHITON.
O LARKS! sing out to the thrushes,
And thrushes, sing to the sky;
Sing from your nests in the bushes,
And sing wherever you fly;
For I’m sure that never another
Such secret was told unto you—
I’ve just got a baby brother!
And I wish that the whole world knew.
I have told the buttercups, truly,
And the clover that grows by the way;
And it pleases me each time, newly,
When I think of it during the day.
And I say to myself: “Little Mary,
You ought to be good as you can,
For the sake of the beautiful fairy
That brought you the wee little man.”
I’m five years old in the summer,
And I’m getting quite large and tall;
But I thought, till I saw the new-comer,
When I looked in the glass, I was small;
And I rise in the morning quite early,
To be sure that the baby is here,
For his hair is so soft and curly,
And his hands so tiny and dear!
I stop in the midst of my pleasure—
I’m so happy I cannot play—
And keep peeping in at my treasure,
To see how much he gains in a day.
But he doesn’t look much like growing,
Yet I think that he will in a year,
And I wish that the days would be going,
And the time when he walks would be here!
O larks! sing out to the thrushes,
And thrushes, sing as you soar;
For I think, when another spring blushes,
I can tell you a great deal more:
I shall look from one to the other,
And say: “Guess, who I’m bringing to you?”
And you’ll look—and see—he’s my brother!
And you’ll sing, “Little Mary was true.”