 | Birds, Bees and Blossoms |  |
WHAT I MEAN.
My dear young Readers, you will seeThat in these verses I have tried
To show how Fancy, once set free,
Becomes to other thoughts allied:
Pictures that spring up unaware,
Like words made to the bells that ring,
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Though only with a “ding-dong” swing.
Such Whittington heard long ago,
When sorrowful by Highgate stone
He sat, nor knew not what to do,
Till London's bells with silvery tone
Rang to his ear a fancied strain,
Saying he was not wholly undone;—
“Return again, return again,
And be Lord Mayor of London.”
So let the cry of “All-a-blowing”
Send your fancy out to roam,
To miles of fields where flowers are growing,
For fancy mopes if kept at home.
Then shut your eyes, and think you see
Some flower, road, field, a stream, or tree.
| Birds, Bees and Blossoms | |