human
Can you write me a poem about new year?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about new year:
  This book is lovingly dedicated to the dear kindergarten
children, and particularly to my little friend, Alice Caro Wing.
"Children are God's apostles, day by day sent forth preach of
love and hope and peace."--Lowell.
"Come to me, O, ye children!
And whisper in my ear
What the birds  and winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.
Ye are better than all the ballads
That were ever sung or said;
For ye are living poems
And all the rest are dead."--Longfellow.
"And Nature, the old nurse, took
The child upon her knee,
Saying: 'Here is a story-book
Thy Father has written for thee."--Longfellow.
"Never mind the cold," urged the New Year; "please help me."
"Oh, I am the little New Year; ho! ho!
Here I come tripping it over the snow,
Shaking my bells with a merry din;
So open your door and let me in."
Mother Nature's House Cleaning
You are needed down here on earth. It is time to dress my plant
Good-bye, from your Mother Nature
But she was not the only one singing a lullaby that bright sunny
I know a little maiden,
She is very fair and sweet,
As she trips among the grasses
That kiss her dainty feet;
Her arms are full of flowers,
The snow-drops, pure and white,
Timid blue-eyed violets,
And daffodillies bright.
She loves dear Mother Nature,
And wanders by her side;
She beckons to the birdlings
That flock from far and wide.
She wakes the baby brooklets,
Soft breezes hear her call;
She tells the little children
The sweetest tales of all.
Her brow is sometimes clouded,
And she sighs with gentle grace,
Till the sunbeams, daring lovers,
Kiss the teardrops from her face.
Well we know this dainty maiden,
For April is her name;
And we welcome her with gladness,
As the springtime comes again.
Mr. Frog's Story
The  world is filled with gladness;
The bells of Easter ring;
Each pure white lily's waking,
To welcome infant spring.
Oh, dear little children, listen,
And hear what the glad bells say!
The sweetest chime they ever rang--
"Our  Lord is risen to-day!"
Birds are flying across the sky;
Their songs ring through the air;
They carol of the Father's love
He shows us everywhere.
Oh, dear little children, listen,
And hear what the birdlings say!
The sweetest song they ever sang--
"Our  Lord is risen to-day!"
But they tried to do their best to help her, and kept on growing.
Away they went, peeping through the curtains, and flying into the
Nature's Violet Children
A great brown hand came up behind them and in a moment they found
The measure was taken, out into the field, where Farmer Lane was
Where were the little raindrops that left Cloudland early in the
The flowers nodded, as if they understood what she said.
Golden and red trees
Nod to the soft breeze,
As it whispers, "Winter is near;"
And the brown nuts fall
At the wind's loud call,
For this is the Fall of the year.
Good-by, sweet flowers!
Through bright Summer hours
You have filled our hearts with cheer
We shall miss you so,
And yet you must go,
For this is the Fall of the year.
Now the days grow cold,
As the year grows old,
And the meadows are brown and sere;
Brave robin redbreast
Has gone from his nest,
For this is the Fall of the year.
I do softly pray
At the close of day,
That the little children, so dear,
May as purely grow
As the fleecy snow
That follows the Fall of the year.
This is what the letter said:
From your old friend,
This letter she directed to
King Winter, The Polar Regions, Cloud-dom.
"See the snow, the beautiful snow" they cried; and the sleds were
Once there lay a little baby
Sleeping in the fragrant hay,
And this lovely infant stranger
Brought our first glad Christmas day.
Shepherds on the hillside, watching
Over wandering flocks at night,
Heard a strange, sweet strain of music,
Saw a clear and heavenly light.
Listened to the angels' story:--
How, in David's town so still,
Slept the infant King of Glory,
Dreaming of sweet peace, good will.
And a star of radiant splendor
Led them where the baby lay,
Lowly cradled in a manger,
On that far-off Christmas day.
Though that day was long ago,
Every child throughout the earth
Loves to hear each year the story
Of the gentle Christ Child's birth.
And they seem to see the beauty
Of the eastern star again;
And repeat the angels' chorus:
"Peace on earth, good will to men."
They used to watch the shepherds guarding their flocks upon the
hillsides, and one bright evening star that looked down upon the
Love's Garden
There is a quiet garden,
From the rude world set apart,
Where seeds for Christ are growing;
This is the loving heart.
The tiny roots are loving thoughts;
Sweet words, the fragrant flowers
Which blossom into loving deeds,--
Ripe fruits for harvest hours.
Thus in our hearts the seeds of love
Am growing year by year;
And we show our love for the Saviour,
By loving His children here.