 | A Flight of Fancies |  |
102
THE WRONG NAME
Of all the little girls I know,
None loves the flowers so much as Dora.
If both her parents had been told
What she would do when six years old,
No doubt they would have named her Flora.
None loves the flowers so much as Dora.
If both her parents had been told
What she would do when six years old,
No doubt they would have named her Flora.
She always likes to take to bed
A sprig of lavender or tansy,
Or any other flowering friend
The seasons in their kindness send:
A pink, a primula, a pansy.
A sprig of lavender or tansy,
Or any other flowering friend
The seasons in their kindness send:
A pink, a primula, a pansy.
But when on frosty days her heart
For blossoms of the Spring is aching,
She never, never seems to tire
Of watching in the ruddy fire
The tulips that the flames are making.
For blossoms of the Spring is aching,
She never, never seems to tire
Of watching in the ruddy fire
The tulips that the flames are making.
When snowdrops come at last and say
That golden friends are close behind them,
The child keeps running out in rain,
Then running back, then out again
Along the gravel path to find them.
That golden friends are close behind them,
The child keeps running out in rain,
Then running back, then out again
Along the gravel path to find them.
103
Of all the little girls I know,
None loves the flowers so much as Dora.
If both her parents could have guessed
The love she had within her breast,
They would have named their darling Flora.
None loves the flowers so much as Dora.
If both her parents could have guessed
The love she had within her breast,
They would have named their darling Flora.
| A Flight of Fancies | |