 | Young Arthur |  |
There's a little red flower
grows in the high grass,
Minute, but more fanciful form never grew;
It catches the eye as you carelessly pass,
And seems like a little bright ruby of dew.
Fair lady, go look; and, the fact while you prove,
Though you may not think so, ah! many may say,
“That flower looks like bashful, and innocent Love,
“Peeping at beauty, and wooing her stay.”
The name of that flower I never yet knew,
So I wrote in Love's Flora, the ruby of dew.
Minute, but more fanciful form never grew;
It catches the eye as you carelessly pass,
And seems like a little bright ruby of dew.
Fair lady, go look; and, the fact while you prove,
Though you may not think so, ah! many may say,
“That flower looks like bashful, and innocent Love,
“Peeping at beauty, and wooing her stay.”
80
So I wrote in Love's Flora, the ruby of dew.
There's a little blue flower, too, blooms in the grass,
A variety this, and as brilliant in hue;
And it seems as if Morning, there chancing to pass,
Had dropp'd a bright bead from her bracelet of blue.
Fair lady, go look, and, the fact while you prove,
There are who may think, and admiring, may say,
“That flower looks like modest, ingenuous, Love,
“Peeping at Gracefulness, wooing her stay.”
And its name as the bead of the morning you'll view,
Where I traced in Love's Flora, the ruby of dew.
A variety this, and as brilliant in hue;
And it seems as if Morning, there chancing to pass,
Had dropp'd a bright bead from her bracelet of blue.
Fair lady, go look, and, the fact while you prove,
There are who may think, and admiring, may say,
“That flower looks like modest, ingenuous, Love,
“Peeping at Gracefulness, wooing her stay.”
And its name as the bead of the morning you'll view,
Where I traced in Love's Flora, the ruby of dew.
There's a little sensation awakens the breast
When true love is peeping, and beauty espies;
Perhaps you have been by that feeling imprest?
Though beauty be bashful, young lovers have eyes.
Fair lady, go look; there's a flower yet unsung,
The may-blossom, gather'd by Love in the morn;
'Tis Simplicity's gift; and if true love has hung
A garland for you let him ne'er feel the thorn.
And the may-blossom ever shall wreath'd be for vou,
With the bead of the morning and ruby of dew.
When true love is peeping, and beauty espies;
Perhaps you have been by that feeling imprest?
Though beauty be bashful, young lovers have eyes.
Fair lady, go look; there's a flower yet unsung,
The may-blossom, gather'd by Love in the morn;
'Tis Simplicity's gift; and if true love has hung
A garland for you let him ne'er feel the thorn.
And the may-blossom ever shall wreath'd be for vou,
With the bead of the morning and ruby of dew.
81
The Bead of the Morning and Ruby of Dew
Were emblems of Allan; had Edith been kind,
O, she had been happy, for he had been true;
But the May-blossom, Hope, is the sport of the wind.
Were emblems of Allan; had Edith been kind,
O, she had been happy, for he had been true;
But the May-blossom, Hope, is the sport of the wind.
Thus thought sighing Edith, when leaving the board,
As Ernest his story had ceas'd for that day,
With the promise the next should a sequel afford;
And his eye follow'd Edith who glided away.
As Ernest his story had ceas'd for that day,
With the promise the next should a sequel afford;
And his eye follow'd Edith who glided away.
That her pain and her pleasure, while Ernest he told
His adventures, were mark'd by her smile, and her sigh
Was notic'd; but, sure, 'twere unmanly as bold
To say she coquetted to rivet his eye.
His adventures, were mark'd by her smile, and her sigh
Was notic'd; but, sure, 'twere unmanly as bold
To say she coquetted to rivet his eye.
Ah! no—as he spoke of each danger so drear
She sigh'd, for young Allan might equally fare;
She smil'd at the pleasant, for Hope whisper'd here
That he might be happy tho' she could not share.
She sigh'd, for young Allan might equally fare;
She smil'd at the pleasant, for Hope whisper'd here
That he might be happy tho' she could not share.
'Twas the false praise of Flatt'ry, of Beauty the bane—
Of beauty so anxious to listen and love—
Which gave to her mind the unthinking and vain,
To her heart the sad penitent's anguish to prove.
Of beauty so anxious to listen and love—
Which gave to her mind the unthinking and vain,
To her heart the sad penitent's anguish to prove.
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She saw all her folly, but saw it too late;
She thought her heart safe when she laugh'd him to scorn;
But 'twas gone with young Allan; whatever his fate,
Or safety or sorrow, sad Edith must mourn.
She thought her heart safe when she laugh'd him to scorn;
But 'twas gone with young Allan; whatever his fate,
Or safety or sorrow, sad Edith must mourn.
I am ignorant of the name of this flower, but I have found it among the grass in wild spots more frequently than in cultivated meadows. I have also found it among the straggling grass on arable land left fallow. It is very small, the flower of the cup kind, with points; and there are two varieties, a bright red and a beautiful azure. I think I have also seen a white variety.
| Young Arthur | |