jour ney
(f ish)
w ish ed
eight
(l og)
fr og s
leaped
(st ream)
d ream ed
On the steep hillside grew a tall ash tree.
Right on the bank of the rushing brook it grew.
Its branches spread far out across the little stream.
[Illustration]
Its leaves looked down into the flashing water.
There, when the sun shone brightly, they saw leaves looking up at them.
They called these “water leaves.”
The little tree leaves wished to go to the water leaves.
Many of them had already fluttered down.
But one leaf, very young, could not let go her hold of the twig.
At last a raging wind tore away the little leaf.
Over and over she turned.
Down, down, down, she fell.
She was so afraid the wind would carry her away.
But the friendly stream leaped up the rocks to meet her.
It bore her away, swiftly but gently.
The little leaf was afraid. She was lonesome.
The dear little “water leaves” were nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t be afraid, little leaf,” murmured the kind brook.
“I will give you a fine ride.
And I’ll talk to you all the time.
I’ll tell you all about the things we pass.
Here we are, already in the meadow.
Now I don’t have to hurry.
See the pretty flowers peeping over my banks.
They all love me.