 | New songs of innocence |  |
62
MY FLOWERS.
My neighbours set their flowers in pots,
Their windows' white reserve to soften;
Or else in tidy garden plots,—
And water them, and trim them often.
But mine, though asking all my care,
And wearing me with vain endeavour
My neighbours' worthy pride to share,
Are wayward and as wild as ever!
Their windows' white reserve to soften;
Or else in tidy garden plots,—
And water them, and trim them often.
But mine, though asking all my care,
And wearing me with vain endeavour
My neighbours' worthy pride to share,
Are wayward and as wild as ever!
My neighbours' flowers are still and meek;
They always stay where they are planted.
They never cry—they never speak—
They could not speak although they wanted!
My flowers no boundary will keep;
From room to room they run in riot.
Only beneath the power of sleep
They rest a while in needful quiet.
They always stay where they are planted.
They never cry—they never speak—
They could not speak although they wanted!
My flowers no boundary will keep;
From room to room they run in riot.
Only beneath the power of sleep
They rest a while in needful quiet.
They watch the sun until he sets,
They greet him, too, whene'er he rises;
In spite of all my vain regrets
They fill the house with sweet surprises.
Where will you find a rose as fair
As Jamie's smiling face, or Willie's?
And my sweet maiden's looks and air
Are lovelier than a thousand lilies!
They greet him, too, whene'er he rises;
In spite of all my vain regrets
They fill the house with sweet surprises.
Where will you find a rose as fair
As Jamie's smiling face, or Willie's?
And my sweet maiden's looks and air
Are lovelier than a thousand lilies!
| New songs of innocence | |