OTHER CHILDREN

It was the daughter of a fairy witch,—

A sweet, though wayward child.

“Go, naughty Elfinella, bring a switch

From yonder fruit tree wild!”

( It was the charming time of all the year,—

The darling month of May

And every bush and thicket, far and near,

With leaves and flowers was gay. )

Poor Elfinella heard, and off she went,

With lagging steps and slow,

To where, amidst the wild, a fruit tree bent,

Her branches spreading low.

With blossomy boughs the motherly old tree

The tearful child begirt:

“My twigs are clothed with flowers; and you will see

The switch will never hurt!”

She broke a branch, with blossoms thickly set,

And lightly homeward tripped,—

The switch was used — but little did she fret;

For she with flowers was whipped!