From the God-given radiance of heaven's own blue.
And cowslips and buttercups grow where we tread,
The breeze whispers soft through the trees overhead,
As showers of pink blossoms, with fragrance so rare,
They shed o'er the ground, over us,—everywhere.
Thou faithful old friend, always ready to go;
Ne'er found out of order like others I know;
And when off we go for a nice little spin,
Unlike others, thou'st never left me to "walk in."
Exchange for another that's handsome and new!