 | Verse in bloom |  |
122
A PICTURE
“This room—how gay! how bright!
Who gathered cones for us to burn to-night?”
Love dropped the kitten to the rug, and said,
“Kiss me for doing right.”
Who gathered cones for us to burn to-night?”
Love dropped the kitten to the rug, and said,
“Kiss me for doing right.”
“Your voice is like a song,
And—Don't these hyacinths smell a little strong?”
Love, with a scarlet hint of pouting, said,
“Kiss me for doing wrong.”
And—Don't these hyacinths smell a little strong?”
Love, with a scarlet hint of pouting, said,
“Kiss me for doing wrong.”
“The snowdrops make me glad.
But who spilled water on my writing-pad?”
Love, with repentance in a dimple, said,
“Beat me for being bad.”
But who spilled water on my writing-pad?”
Love, with repentance in a dimple, said,
“Beat me for being bad.”
“How could I dream of blame,
With you and snowdrops, kitten, cones, and flame?”
Love, with a falling of her bosom, said,
“Whisper my sweetest name.”
With you and snowdrops, kitten, cones, and flame?”
Love, with a falling of her bosom, said,
“Whisper my sweetest name.”
| Verse in bloom | |