What could I do?

G. Bachlund

I meant to do my work to-day --

But a brown bird sang in the apple-tree,

And a butterfly flitted across the field,

And all the leaves were calling me.

And the wind went sighing over the land,

Tossing the grasses to and fro,

And a rainbow held out its shining hand --

So what could I do but laugh and go?