Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1871-01-04
Our 1Juuns folks.
Ill Tell You Why
BY CLIO STANLEY.

In the middle Of Mr.. Duncans clover
field stood an old elm, where the. robins
and blue-jays built their nests and sang
sweet songs.
Little Elsie Duncan stood under the
tree, with the blithe winds blowing against
her face, and thought it was the most
beautiful place in the world.
Yonder, over the golden ears Of corn,
foated the happy shouts Of the village
children; over there in the woods She
could hear the rustic of a hundred tiny
leaves telling their sweet stories to the
sunshine; at the meadow bars there was
a glad little brook that ran along in the
green grass like low laughter, but no place
after all seemed quite 20 nice to Elsie as
the seat under the elm tree.
The branches were so long and the toli-
age so dense that it seemed to Elsie as if
she had a beautiful grove Of her own
when she was there, and the elm tree was
only the center Of it. On one side Of the
tree the sunlight fell in little drops OF
gold, and on the other side beautiful sill
ver-gray moss crept over the bark.
Yellow butterflies futtcred hithcr and
thither over the cloyer-tops-de little
butterflies that were born with the first
sweet breath Of the morning, launched
gayly out in midair, rocked when weary
IN i rose-crade and were hushed to sleep
by the dreamy little zephyrs that muir
INJURED among the leaves.
Oh what a pleasant life il the life OF a
yellow butterfly thought Elsie. Only
it cannot be summer always, and when
the cold nights come the pretty things
must die | wonder why We must hare
winter at all
Puff came a little breath Of air right
into her face, ruffied her brown hair and
was off again, but il had left tiny seed
sticking in a curl.
Don't you know it whispered softly
in her ear | came from the top Of a
great pine tree, and the wind will carry
me and bury me somewhere. The leaves
will drift over me, the earth be hcaped
above me, the white snow of winter will
be my coyerlid, and | shall have long,
quiet sleep / am tired already with my
long journey through the air. Bury me
sweet winds, bury me
And a gentle south wind lifted the tiny
seed from Elsies curly hair and carried i
softly out of sight
Then Elsie leaned her head against the
old tree, and she heard another whisper
that sounded as if it came from the heart
Of the dear old elm
IN tell you why, little girl 10 YOU
know how busy a life lead ALL the spring
and summer and autumn How the sap
flows up and down the buds and green
leaves swell and grow and ripcn and fall
And then comes winter Don't you think
[ want to rest some time ? What would
you do if you had to keep busy day il
and day out !? The winter is my night.
and in it God folds me away TO sleep.
Tirra-la, tirra-la can tell you wig
sang the robin and the blue-jay both to-
gether. But first tell Us which part Of
the year you love the best
The dear bright spring. answered
Elsie, when the skies are radiant aud The
green earth grows warm with life
All sang the little birds we thought
50! But now listen, little Elsie If there
were no long cold season, what would you
know about the JOY Of a warmer one IT
the earth did not grow chill and dull for a
time, where would be the beauty Of green
fields and bright flower gardens All,
we can tell you why! If there were no
winter, there could be no spring
The birds hushed their song the old
tree grew drowsy and nodded lis leaves in .
the warm, golden sunshine the grass
hoppers whirred in the clover, and little
Elsie contented went home
But she never forgot the lesson she
learned that day under the elm tree.