When he frowns his mother cries :
" Clouds to-day and gloomy skies!"
When his tears fall soft and fast,
" Summer showers that will not last."
When he romps in noisy play.
" Boisterous winds and high to-day."
When he's sweet and still and grave,
" Fair and clear—a warmer wave."
When he cries with might and main,
" Storms and cyclones, wind and rain."
When he's bright and blithe and gay,
" Sunshine, breeze—a perfect day!"
Ah, you look so grave and wise,
" Little Probabilities."
Since you make for us our day,
Listen, baby, when we pray.
Give us only pleasant weather,
Banish frowns and tears together.—Sel
