html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }I love the little birds
That flit among the flowers,
That sing their songs of praise
Through all the summer hours.
I love the little lamb
That in the meadow plays,
I love to see it run around
And watch its antic ways.
I love the murmuring brook
That ripples on its course,
I love to think how it was formed
And wonder at its source.
I love the little violet
That hangs its drooping head,
And wonder why it does not rise
Above its humble bed.
I love to see the mountain
That rears its proud head
Above the objects on the earth
It seems as though it said,
"I do not want to stay with you,
Poor insignificant things
Of earth, I fain would fly
To the clouds; would I had wings!"
What a contrast between the violet
And the mountains you may see.
The mountains teach us wicked pride,
The violet, humility.
(Aged 13 years.]