 | Young Arthur |  |
And Arthur he grew as the poplar grows,
Planted where smooth, deep, water flows;
And Arthur he grew as the flower of May,
Hardy the stem, but the blossom gay;
And Arthur he grew as the sweet-briar green,
The pride of the garden, though modest in mien;
And Arthur he grew as the life-giving grain,
The boast of the peasant, and joy of the plain.
In a garden the white spreading bindwort I've seen
Entwining the flowers with its tend'rils of green;
Of Arthur an emblem the picture imparts,
His grace was the bindwort, the flowers all hearts.
He lov'd that sage and the sage lov'd him,
A reflector he seem'd to a lamp grown dim,
For, ever as near the sage he came
His eye emitted a waking flame;
And he taught him many a page of lore;
And he told him many a tale of yore;
Cheering ever the winter's night;
While Arthur he listen'd with young delight.
Planted where smooth, deep, water flows;
And Arthur he grew as the flower of May,
Hardy the stem, but the blossom gay;
And Arthur he grew as the sweet-briar green,
The pride of the garden, though modest in mien;
And Arthur he grew as the life-giving grain,
The boast of the peasant, and joy of the plain.
In a garden the white spreading bindwort I've seen
Entwining the flowers with its tend'rils of green;
Of Arthur an emblem the picture imparts,
His grace was the bindwort, the flowers all hearts.
He lov'd that sage and the sage lov'd him,
A reflector he seem'd to a lamp grown dim,
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His eye emitted a waking flame;
And he taught him many a page of lore;
And he told him many a tale of yore;
Cheering ever the winter's night;
While Arthur he listen'd with young delight.
| Young Arthur | |