THE MONTHS

SCENE. A Cottage with its grounds. A room in a large comfortable cottage; a fire burning on the hearth; a table on which the breakfast things have been left standing. January discovered seated by the fire.

JANUARY.

Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,
Dim the day until the cold dark night.

[Stirs the fire.

Crackle, sparkle, fagot; embers glow:

Some one may be plodding through the snow
Longing for a light,

For the light that you and I can show.

If no one else should come,

Here Robin Redbreast's welcome to a crumb,

And never troublesome:

Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb?

Here 's butter for my hunch of bread,

And sugar for your crumb;,

Here's room upon the hearthrug,

If you 'll only come.

In your scarlet waistcoat,

With your keen bright eye,

Where are you loitering?

Wings were made to fly!

Make haste to breakfast,
Come and fetch your crumb,
For I'm as glad to see you

As you are glad to come.

Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at the lattice, which January opens. The birds flutter in, hop about the floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar thrown to them. They have scarcely finished their meal, when a knock is heard at the door. January hangs a guard in front of the fire, and opens to February, who appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand.

JANUARY.

FEBRUARY.

Good-morrow, sister.

Brother, joy to you!

I've brought some snowdrops; only just a few,
But quite enough to prove the world awake,
Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew

And for the pale sun's sake.

[She hands a few of her snowdrops to January, who retires into the background. While February stands arranging the remaining snowdrops in a glass of water on the window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are heard outside. She opens the door, and sees one foremost lamb, with other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding towards her.

FEBRUARY.

come in,

O you, you little wonder, come
You wonderful, you woolly soft white lambi
You panting mother ewe, come too,

And lead that tottering twin

Safe in:

Bring all your bleating kith and kin,

Except the horny ram.

[February opens a second door in the background, and the little flock files through into a warm and sheltered compartment out of sight.

The lambkin tottering in its walk

With just a fleece to wear;

The snowdrop drooping on its stalk
So slender,-

THE MONTHS