 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
A HAREBELL.
Mother, if I were a flower
Instead of a little child,
I would choose my home by a waterfall,
To laugh at its gambols wild,
To be sprinkled with spray and dew;
And I 'd be a harebell blue.
Instead of a little child,
I would choose my home by a waterfall,
To laugh at its gambols wild,
To be sprinkled with spray and dew;
And I 'd be a harebell blue.
Blue is the color of heaven,
And blue is the color for me.
But in the rough earth my clinging roots
Closely nestled should be;
For the earth is friendly and true
To the little harebell blue.
And blue is the color for me.
But in the rough earth my clinging roots
Closely nestled should be;
For the earth is friendly and true
To the little harebell blue.
I could not look up to the Sun
As the bolder blossoms look;
But he would look up with a smile to me
From his mirror in the brook;
And his smile would thrill me through,—
A trembling harebell blue.
As the bolder blossoms look;
But he would look up with a smile to me
From his mirror in the brook;
And his smile would thrill me through,—
A trembling harebell blue.
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The winds would not break my stem
When they rushed in tempest by;
I would bend before them, for they come
From the loving Hand on high,
That never a harm can do
To a slender harebell blue.
When they rushed in tempest by;
I would bend before them, for they come
From the loving Hand on high,
That never a harm can do
To a slender harebell blue.
I would play with shadow and breeze;
I would blossom from June till frost.
Dear mother, I know you would find me out,
When my stream-side cliff you crossed;
And I 'd give myself to you,—
Your own little harebell blue.
I would blossom from June till frost.
Dear mother, I know you would find me out,
When my stream-side cliff you crossed;
And I 'd give myself to you,—
Your own little harebell blue.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |