To an old-fashioned garden my babyhood knew.
A wealth of red roses hung over the wall,
And, laden with pink, downy peaches, a tall
And willowy tree did its long branches sway
O'erhead, as you passed, in an inviting way;
While from its green shelter the oriole's song
Rode on the soft breezes the summer day long.
The currant-bush flourished in rows near the wall,
The sugar corn waved its soft leaves over all;
And buttercups, daisies and peonies grew,