Cheerfulness by Olyette Ellis

Not less we love the simple note
That thrills the russet robin’s throat.
Than if he soared, with golden wing,
Higly in the azure sky to sing.

He waits not for the summer shower
To make the woods a leafy bower;
But comes when orchard boughs are bare.
Presaging flowers and fruitage fair.

And thus should every human heart,
Tho’ humble, ever do its part
To cheer the downcast and to say
Bright flowers and fruit will come, some day.