trees!

--_Ada S. Sherwood, in Journal of Education._

RECITATION.

Do you know the trees by name
When you see them growing
In the fields or in the woods?
They are well worth knowing.

Watch them in the early spring,
When their buds are swelling;
Watch each tiny little leaf
Leave its little dwelling.

Watch them later, when their leaves
Everywhere are showing;
Soon you'll know the different trees
When you see them growing.

--_Selected._

GOIN' BAREFOOTED.

It's more fun goin' barefoot than anythin' I know,
There ain't a single 'nother thing that helps your feelin's so.
Some days I stay in muvver's room, a-gettin' in her way,
An' when I've bothered her so much, she sez, "Oh, run and play!"
I say, "Kin I go barefoot?" En she sez, "If y' choose."
Nen I alwuz wanter holler when I'm pullin' off my shoes!

It's fun a-going barefoot when yer playin' any game,
'Cause robbers would be noisy, an' Indians awful tame
Unless they had their shoes off when they crep' up in the night,
An' folks can't know they're comin' till they get right close in sight.
An' I'm surely goin' barefoot every day when I get old,
An' haven't got a nurse to say I'll catch my death of cold.

An' if you're goin' barefoot, yer want to go outdoors;
Y' can't stretch out an' dig yer heels in stupid, hardwood floors,
Like you can dig 'em in th' dirt. An' where th' long grass grows,
Th' blades feel kinder tickley and cool between yer toes.
So when I'm pullin' off my shoes I'm mighty 'fraid I'll cough,
'Cause then I know Ma'd stop me 'fore I got my stockin's off.

If y' often go 'round barefoot there's lots o' things to know--
Of how to curl yer feet on stones, so they won't hurt y' so;
An' when th' grass is stickley, an' pricks y' at a touch,
Jes' plank yer feet down solid, an' it don't hurt half so much;
I lose my hat mos' every day--I wish I did my shoes;
Er else I wisht I was so poor I hadn't none to lose!

--_Burges Johnson, in "Harper's Magazine."_

The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-sides dew pearled:
The larks on the wing:
The snails on the thorn;
God's in his heaven--
All's right with the world!

--_Browning._

In fact there is nothing that kee