 | Beads from a Rosary |  |
“Wait awhile, wait awhile,
Gossips, till the noon-tide sun
Ceaseth with his fever-smile
So to shine. I'll talk anon—
I am weary now;
There is King-cup in the meadow,
And sweet Marguerite too;
Primrose, 'neath the wood's deep shadow,
And a jocund crew
Of Orchis, and Forget-me-not,
And Pansies, by the poor man's cot—
They will talk enow.
Turn to them, dear gossips twain,
I am weary, and would fain
Sleep till skies are cool again.”
Gossips, till the noon-tide sun
Ceaseth with his fever-smile
So to shine. I'll talk anon—
I am weary now;
There is King-cup in the meadow,
And sweet Marguerite too;
Primrose, 'neath the wood's deep shadow,
And a jocund crew
Of Orchis, and Forget-me-not,
And Pansies, by the poor man's cot—
They will talk enow.
48
I am weary, and would fain
Sleep till skies are cool again.”
| Beads from a Rosary | |