Little Sunshine.

Winsome, wee and witty,     Like a little fay,     Carolling her ditty     All the livelong day,     Saucy as a sparrow     In the summer glade,     Flitting o'er the meadow     Came the little maid.     A youth big and burly,     Loitered near the stile,     He had risen early,     Just to win her smile.     And she came towards him     Trying to look grave,     But she couldn't do it,     Not her life to save.     For the fun within her,     Well'd out from her eyes,     And the tell-tale blushes     To her brow would rise.     Then he gave her greeting,     And with bashful bow,     Said in tones entreating,     "Darling tell me now,     You are all the sunshine,     This world holds for me;     Be my little valentine,     I have come for thee."     But she only tittered     When he told his love,     And the gay birds twittered     On the boughs above;     He continued pleading,     Calling her his sun -     Said his heart was bleeding, -     Which seemed famous fun.     Then he turned to leave her.     But she caught his hand,     And its gentle pressure     Made him understand,     That in spite of teasing,     He her heart had won,     And through life hereafter,     She would be his sun.      -    -    -    -    -     Now they have been married     Twenty years or more,     But she's just as wilful     As she was before.     And she's just as winsome     In his eyes to-day,     As when first be met her,     Mischievous and gay.     Will the years ne'er tame her?     Will she ne'er grow old?     Does the grave man blame her?     Does he never scold?     Does he never weary     Of her ready tongue?     Does he love her dearly     As when he was young?     Yes - she was the sunshine     Of his youthful day,     And her light laugh cheers him     Now he's growing gray.     Happy little woman,     That time cannot tame;     Happy sober husband,     Loving still the same.     Happy in her lightness     When life's morn was bright,     Happy in her brightness     As draws on the night.