THREE NAMES
A bird, a child, and a bed of purple flowers,
I found in a garden so green and so bright.
With gentle step to them I moved and spoke,—
All three did tremble at my sight.
“Oh, come to me, my pretty little flowers;
And please, please breathe your name to me.
I want to know you better than I do;
I think we should not strangers be.
“Oh, come to me, my pretty blue-eyed child,
And lisp thine own sweet name to me;
Thy golden ringlets and thine angel smiles
Deserve a greater blazonry.
“Oh, come to me, my pretty caged bird,
And sing thy name in thy song to me;
Thou sing’st the sweetest songs I ever heard,
But I’d know more than that of thee.”
So one by one each gave her secret up
With a confidence I felt was true.
The flowers breathed violet; the child spoke the same;
And the bird thereat sang violet too.