Celia Thaxter


The alder by the river

Shakes out her powdery curls;

The willow buds in silver

For little boys and girls.

The little birds fly over,

And oh, how sweet they sing!

To tell the happy children

That once again 't is spring.

The gay green grass comes creeping

So soft beneath their feet

The frogs begin to ripple

A music clear and sweet.

And buttercups are coming,

And scarlet columbine,

And in the sunny meadows

The dandelions shine.

And just as many daisies

As their soft hands can hold,

The little ones may gather,

All fair in white and gold.

Here blows the warm red clover,

There peeps the violet blue;

O happy little children!

God made them all for you.