Still, ecstasy rare
Comes down to share
The heart that with human love trembles;
While all on the earth
Is crowned with new birth
And everything heaven resembles.
[IN HER GARDEN.]
She picks me June roses.
Were ever such roses?
Their fragrance would honor
The heavenly halls.
She finds me pet pansies.
Such wondrous-eyed pansies,
And lovely nasturtiums
That run on the walls.
Sweet peas she's now bringing,
While all the time singing.
And I? Ask the flowers
To tell what befalls.