Home from the woods

HOME FROM THE WOODS.
.
It rains! and, hark! the rushing wind
Begins to moan and blow:
Take jug and basket, and come on.
For we have far to go.
.
Don't fret and whimper, little one;
Here, my umbrella take:
The birds heed not the pouring rain;
Just hear the songs they make!
.
And see how glad are leaf and bud
To get each cooling drop:
Come, soon it will be bright again,
For soon the rain will stop.
................................ From the German
.
From The Nursery, November 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 5