 | The white dove, and Other Poems for Children |  |
67
Garden-Flowers.
The dear old fashioned garden flowers,
My childhood thought so fair and sweet,
Are records now of happy hours,
And bloom with memories replete.
Smile not—for ah! they seem to be
Kindred, and dear old friends to me!
My childhood thought so fair and sweet,
Are records now of happy hours,
And bloom with memories replete.
Smile not—for ah! they seem to be
Kindred, and dear old friends to me!
Who plants the Morning-glory now?
Who trains a woodbine round his door?
The Cacti droop, the Dahlias bow,
Where scented Wall-flowers stood before.
Camelias with their scentless bloom,
Have left for Roses little room.
Who trains a woodbine round his door?
The Cacti droop, the Dahlias bow,
Where scented Wall-flowers stood before.
Camelias with their scentless bloom,
Have left for Roses little room.
68
Where is the Sweet-brier, closely armed,
With thorns in fierce array:
Yet when the sun its foliage warmed,
Sweet as the breath of May.
When Daisies dappled o'er the ground,
And Heart's-ease everywhere was found!
With thorns in fierce array:
Yet when the sun its foliage warmed,
Sweet as the breath of May.
When Daisies dappled o'er the ground,
And Heart's-ease everywhere was found!
The Damask roses, early blown,
In every garden once were seen;
Convolvolus—now scarcely known—
And blossoms of the Scarlet bean.
And underneath the cottage eaves,
Grew purple Flags with lance-shaped leaves,
In every garden once were seen;
Convolvolus—now scarcely known—
And blossoms of the Scarlet bean.
And underneath the cottage eaves,
Grew purple Flags with lance-shaped leaves,
Where is the yellow Daffodil?
The little Snow-drop's waxen cells?
Phlox blowing at its own sweet will,
And graceful Canterbury bells?
Who gives the honest Cowslip place,
Or Rosemary, “the herb of grace.”
The little Snow-drop's waxen cells?
Phlox blowing at its own sweet will,
And graceful Canterbury bells?
Who gives the honest Cowslip place,
Or Rosemary, “the herb of grace.”
69
Sweet Williams, warm with varied dyes,
Rich spicy Pinks—pale Lavender;
Sweet peas, with wings like butterflies,
And Southernwood, like scented myrrh:
The Crocus, smiling in the snow,
The Peony with its crimson glow.
Rich spicy Pinks—pale Lavender;
Sweet peas, with wings like butterflies,
And Southernwood, like scented myrrh:
The Crocus, smiling in the snow,
The Peony with its crimson glow.
The small pale rose of fragrant musk,
The Hyacinth of fragrant bloom;
The Primrose opening in the dusk,
The Gilliflower of rare perfume:
The Balsams bright with every hue,
The Larkspur gay in pink and blue.
The Hyacinth of fragrant bloom;
The Primrose opening in the dusk,
The Gilliflower of rare perfume:
The Balsams bright with every hue,
The Larkspur gay in pink and blue.
Fair Lilies, which would never blow
Upon our cold and sordid earth,
But that God planted them to show,
What perfect purity was worth:
Tulips in rainbow colors drest,
Tall Sunflowers nodding towards the west:
Upon our cold and sordid earth,
But that God planted them to show,
What perfect purity was worth:
Tulips in rainbow colors drest,
Tall Sunflowers nodding towards the west:
70
Dear are they each and every one!
And tho' my pleasant youth is gone,
Sweet thoughts for me are treasured up,
In every leaf and fragrant cup.
And let me meet them where I will,
Youth comes back to me, with a thrill,
Recalling by-past happy hours—
Blest be the common Garden-Flowers!
And tho' my pleasant youth is gone,
Sweet thoughts for me are treasured up,
In every leaf and fragrant cup.
And let me meet them where I will,
Youth comes back to me, with a thrill,
Recalling by-past happy hours—
Blest be the common Garden-Flowers!
| The white dove, and Other Poems for Children | |