FATE.

Ruth was a laughing-eyed prattler,

Thoughtless, and happy, and free;

She planted a seed in the garden,

And said: “It will grow to a tree —

A beautiful blossoming tree.”

The birds and the squirrels played round it,

As careless and merry was she,

But not tree ever grew from her planting —

No beautiful blossoming tree.

Ruth was a winsome-faced maiden,

Happy, and hopeful, and free;

She planted a seed in the garden,

And smilingly waited to see —

A beautiful blossoming tree.

She covered the ground up with flowers,

The butterfly came, and the bee,

But no tree ever grew from her planting —

No beautiful blossoming tree.

Ruth was a pale saddened woman,

Thoughtful, with tremblings and fears,

She planted a seed in the garden,

And watered the place with her tears —

And watched it with tremblings and fears.

The winds and the rains beat upon it,

The lightnings flashed o'er it in glee;

But she sleeps‘ neath the tree of her planting —

A beautiful blossoming tree.