And look up through the tree!

    The Sky is like a kind big smile

    Bent sweetly over me.

    The Sunshine flickers through the lace

    Of leaves above my head,

    And kisses me upon the face

    Like Mother, before bed.

    The Wind comes stealing o''er the grass

    To whisper pretty things;

    And though I cannot see him pass,

    I feel his careful wings.

    So many gentle Friends are near

    Whom one can scarcely see,

    A child should never feel a fear,

    Wherever he may be.

    By: Abbie Farwell Brown