 | Tales in Verse for Young People |  |
173
COWSLIPS.
Nay, tell me not of Austral flowers,
Or purple bells from Persia's bowers,
The cowslip of this land of ours
Is dearer far to me!
This flower in other years I knew!
I know the fields wherein it grew,
With violets white and violets blue,
Beneath the garden tree!
Or purple bells from Persia's bowers,
The cowslip of this land of ours
Is dearer far to me!
This flower in other years I knew!
I know the fields wherein it grew,
With violets white and violets blue,
Beneath the garden tree!
I never see these flowers but they
Send back my memory far away,
To years long past, and many a day
Else perished long ago!
They bring my childhood's years again—
Our garden-fence, I see it plain,
With ficaries like a golden rain
Showered on the earth below.
Send back my memory far away,
To years long past, and many a day
Else perished long ago!
They bring my childhood's years again—
Our garden-fence, I see it plain,
With ficaries like a golden rain
Showered on the earth below.
174
A happy child, I leap, I run,
And memories come back one by one,
Like swallows with the summer sun,
To their old haunts of joy!
A happy child, once more I stand,
With my kind sister hand in hand,
And hear those tones so sweet, so bland,
That never brought annoy!
And memories come back one by one,
Like swallows with the summer sun,
To their old haunts of joy!
A happy child, once more I stand,
With my kind sister hand in hand,
And hear those tones so sweet, so bland,
That never brought annoy!
I hear again my mother's wheel,
Her hand upon my head I feel;
Her kiss, which every grief could heal,
Is on my cheek e'en now;
I see the dial overhead;
I see the porch o'er which was led
The pyracantha green and red,
And jessamine's slender bough.
Her hand upon my head I feel;
Her kiss, which every grief could heal,
Is on my cheek e'en now;
I see the dial overhead;
I see the porch o'er which was led
The pyracantha green and red,
And jessamine's slender bough.
I see the garden-thicket's shade,
Where all the summer long we played,
And gardens set, and houses made,
Our early work and late;
Our little gardens, side by side,
Each bordered round with London-pride,
Some six feet long and three feet wide,
To us a large estate!
Where all the summer long we played,
And gardens set, and houses made,
Our early work and late;
Our little gardens, side by side,
Each bordered round with London-pride,
Some six feet long and three feet wide,
To us a large estate!
175
The apple and the damson trees;
The cottage-shelter for our bees;
I see them—and beyond all these,
A something dearer still;
I see an eye serenely blue,
A cheek of girlhood's freshest hue,
A buoyant heart, a spirit true,
Alike in good and ill.
The cottage-shelter for our bees;
I see them—and beyond all these,
A something dearer still;
I see an eye serenely blue,
A cheek of girlhood's freshest hue,
A buoyant heart, a spirit true,
Alike in good and ill.
Sweet sister, thou wert all to me,
And I, sufficient friend for thee:—
Where was a happier twain than we,
Who had no mate beside?
Like wayside flowers in merry May,
Our pleasures round about us lay;—
A joyful morning had our day,
Whate'er our eve betide!
And I, sufficient friend for thee:—
Where was a happier twain than we,
Who had no mate beside?
Like wayside flowers in merry May,
Our pleasures round about us lay;—
A joyful morning had our day,
Whate'er our eve betide!
| Tales in Verse for Young People | |