"There are lots of eider ducklets Up in Heaven, above the blue, And they're dropping off their feathers,-- And such downy feathers, too! "See them frolic with each other; See them kiss as fast they fly; See them make believe they are going to, Then go gaily flitting by. "See them on the Spruce and Balsam, Pile up little soft, fat hands; See their many plump, white cushions; See them wave their fairy wands. "See the showers of flying feathers Whisking 'round in merry moods; See, the telegraph their perch is,-- Oh, I'm sure they're almost birds!" {308} Now she fancies she can hear them Whisper of their ducklet birth;-- Hear their soft and wean-y quacklings, As they tumble down to earth. Now she listens for the jingle Of the sleigh-bells they will bring; Now she sees the flying horses, Prancing gaily at their ring. Lovely are these fleecy feathers, Dainty in each rare device; All unlike our ducklet feathers,-- White and soft, but cold as ice. {309} Yet they cover, warmly cover Mother Earth so bleak and brown; Cover her with feathery mantles, Comforters of eider-down. {310} _FOREST TREES._ Children, have you seen the budding Of the trees in valleys low? Have you watched it creeping, creeping Up the mountain, soft and slow? Weaving there a plush-like mantle, Brownish, grayish, red-dish green, Changing, changing, daily, hourly, Till it smiles in emerald sheen? Have you watched the shades so varied, From the graceful, little white birch, Faint and tender, to the balsam's Evergreen, so dark and rich? Have you seen the quaint mosaics Gracing all the mountain-sides, Where they, mingling, intertwining, Sway like softest mid-air tides? {311} Have you seen the autumn frostings Spread on all the leafage bright, Frostings of the rarest colors, Red and yellow, dark and light? Have you seen the glory painted On the mountain, valley, hill, When the landscape all illumined, Blazons forth His taste and skill? Have you seen the foliage dropping, Tender cling, as loth to leave Mother-trees that taught them deftly, All their warp and woof to weave? Have you seen the leafless branches Tossing wildly 'gainst the blue? Have you seen the soft gray beauty Of their wintry garments' hue? Have you thought the resurrection Seen in Nature year by year, Is a symbol of our rising In a higher, holier sphere? Children, ye are buds maturing; Make your autumn rich and grand, That your winter be a passage Through the gates to Glory-land. {312} _CHILDHOOD FANCIES._ The twilight gray is falling, Now list and you shall hear The footsteps of the sylphid fays,-- This is their hour of cheer. List to the gentle patter On each wee blade of grass, As it is bent, and back again, Whene'er the fairies pass. {313}