 | New songs of innocence |  |
69
OUR QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Underneath the orchard-trees
Of a garden full of bees,
Pinks and roses, blossomed beans,
Every fragrant herb that leans
Lowly in its loveliness,
Hiding from the wind's caress,—
Through a cloud of summer breath
Comes our queen, Elizabeth!
Of a garden full of bees,
Pinks and roses, blossomed beans,
Every fragrant herb that leans
Lowly in its loveliness,
Hiding from the wind's caress,—
Through a cloud of summer breath
Comes our queen, Elizabeth!
Very young and fair is she,
Scarcely reaching to my knee;
Wise and winsome, good and gay,
Gracious as the summer day.
Dancing to each shadowy stalk
Mirrored on the sunny walk;
Singing, as the Psalmist saith,
A new song, Elizabeth!
Scarcely reaching to my knee;
Wise and winsome, good and gay,
Gracious as the summer day.
Dancing to each shadowy stalk
Mirrored on the sunny walk;
Singing, as the Psalmist saith,
A new song, Elizabeth!
In a garden such as ours,
Filled with fair old-fashioned flowers,
May have roved a baby queen
Sadder far than this, I ween.
Ah, your childhood, good Queen Bess,
Sire-forsaken, motherless!
May no sorrow worse than death
Shadow our Elizabeth!
Filled with fair old-fashioned flowers,
May have roved a baby queen
Sadder far than this, I ween.
Ah, your childhood, good Queen Bess,
Sire-forsaken, motherless!
May no sorrow worse than death
Shadow our Elizabeth!
| New songs of innocence | |