Twist me a crown of wind-flowers;
That I may fly away

To hear the singers at their song,
And players at their play.

Put on your crown of wind-flowers:
But whither would you go?
Beyond the surging of the sea
And the storms that blow.

Alas! your crown of wind-flowers
Can never make you fly:
I twist them in a crown to-day,
And to-night they die.

Which may be the chosen spot.

No toad spy you,

Hovering bird of prey pass by you;

Spin and die,

To live again a butterfly.

A toadstool comes up in a night,— Learn the lesson, little folk:

An oak grows on a hundred years, But then it is an oak.

A pocket handkerchief to hem-
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
How many stitches it will take
Before it's done, I fear.

Yet set a stitch and then a stitch,
And stitch and stitch away,

Till stitch by stitch the hem is done-
And after work is play!