 | Forest Notes |  |
88
LITTLE LOVE-SONG
I love you as the bee that sipsThe flower's lips—
I love you as the summer grasses
Adore the sighing breeze that passes
Their waving tips—
I love you as the streams the Sun
That makes them sparkle as they run,
And turns the pebbles that they hold
To lumps of gold;
And every day
That you're away
Is dull and weary, sad and cold.
E.
| Forest Notes | |