 | Beads from a Rosary |  |
“Orchis, and King-cup, Forget-me-not,
All who are waking in this sweet spot,
Join ye our natal song;
Let not the bird and the idle breeze
Be alone in their joyous minstrelsies,
Let a voice from our happy throng
Rise from the grasses and moss-tufts green;
Sharers are we in the festive scene
Though we be lowly and frail, I ween.
Sing, sisters, sing!”
All who are waking in this sweet spot,
Join ye our natal song;
Let not the bird and the idle breeze
Be alone in their joyous minstrelsies,
Let a voice from our happy throng
Rise from the grasses and moss-tufts green;
Sharers are we in the festive scene
Though we be lowly and frail, I ween.
Sing, sisters, sing!”
| Beads from a Rosary | |