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the queen bee.
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The Queen Bee.
The good Queen sits in her easy chair,
On her lips I see a dreamy smile,
As she glances at the papers near—
The children's papers—a goodly pile;
And tender thoughts are in her heart
As she scans each youthful writer's name,
Picturing to herself, in part,
The dear young aspirants to fame.
Perchance she thinks of a future year,
When the writers are men and women grown,
And names that now in her "corner" appear
May have a significance all their own;
Names that first were proudly seen
In the "Children's Columns," when
Ambition first was born, I ween,
In the hearts of the little women and men.
And she thinks, maybe, of years ago,
When she was as eager for the fight;
And her heart is full as she thinks also
Of the disappointed ones to-night.
She knows how hard it is to climb;
She knows how false are the hopes of youth;
And she knows that there will come a time
When her dear young people will prove its truth
And so with a sigh she turns once more
To the pile of papers lying there,
For she knows that when her task is o'er
The few will rejoice, the many despair.