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Old Mother Earth woke up from her sleep,
_ And found she was cold and bare;
The winter was over, the spring was near,
_ And she had not a dress to wear.
"Alas!" she sighed, with great dismay,
_ "Oh, where shall I get my clothes?
There's not a place to buy a suiet,
_ And a dressmaker no one knows."
"I'll make you a dress," said the springing grass,
_ Just looking above the ground,
"A dress of green of the loveliest sheen,
_ To cover you all around."
"And we," said the dandelions gay,
_ Will do it with yellow bright."
"I'll make it a fringe," said foget-me-not,
_ "Of blue, very soft and light."
"We'll embroider the front," said the violets,
_ "With a lovely purple hue!"
"And we," said the roses, "will make you a crown
_ Of red, jeweled over the dew."
"And we'll be your gems," said a voice from the shade,
_ Where the ladies' eardrops live-
"Orange is the color for any queen
_ And the best we have to give."
Old Mother Earth was thankful and glad,
_ As she put on her dress so gay;
And that is the reason, my little ones,
_ She is looking so lovely today.
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