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Little Jack Rabbit and Chippy Chipmunk

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<h2>LITTLE MESSENGER BOY BUNNY</h2> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> The Gentle South Wind in the trees Is turning buds to tender leaves, And down the crystal Bubbling Brook The Pussy Willows nod and look To see if o'er the meadow green The Dandelions can be seen. Soon all the flowers will be here And Chilly Winter disappear. </div> </div> Little Jack Rabbit hopped up to the big hollow tree where Peter Possum and Mrs. Possum had slept all winter with their little baby possums. "Come out, come out! Spring is here!" "What's that?" asked Peter Possum, sleepily. "Who's calling?" "It's me!" laughed Little Jack Rabbit. "Mr. Merry Sun is bright and warm, and the Pussy Willows are playing with the Cattails by the Bubbling Brook." And away he hopped, for he couldn't wait another minute, he was so anxious to spread the good news. Pretty soon he reached Woody Chuck's front door, and called through the keyhole, "Spring is here! wake up, wake up!" Woody Chuck yawned and stretched his legs, and pretty soon he opened the door, but the little rabbit wasn't there. No siree. He was far away waking up Billy Badger. And after that he hopped over to stir up Chippy Chipmunk and Billy Coon. Dear me. That little rabbit was busy, let me tell you. He just couldn't let anybody find out the good news for himself. He wanted to be the spring's little messenger boy. All the while the Little Balmy Breezes had been dancing here and there, ringing the blue bells, blowing on the little horn-shaped flowers and whispering to the grasses and ferns. And Mr. Merry Sun! How he did smile up in his big blue sky. Mr. North Wind, on his whistling snow horses, had gone up to the North Pole to tell Santa Claus that everybody had forgotten all about Xmas Trees, and that Bobbie Redvest was building a nest in the old apple tree behind the Big Red Barn. And, goodness me! I almost forgot to mention that the Weathercock had a new suit of gold paint. Yes, sir! The Kind Farmer had climbed up on a ladder with a little bottle of gold paint and a brush to make the Weathercock as bright as a new gold dollar. Down at the Old Bramble Patch Mrs. Rabbit was housecleaning. The Old Red Rooster had taken down the storm door and stored it away in the barn. He had unwound the straw wrappers from the rose bushes and cleared away the dry leaves from the cellar door. Yes, sir. He was as busy as could be, for Mrs. Rabbit kept one eye on him all the time and he never even had a chance to crow except at two o'clock in the morning. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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