Crazy Nell.
“Come, Rosy, come!” I heard the voice and, looked
Out on the road that passed my window wide,
And saw a woman and a fair-haired child
That knelt and picked the daisies at the side.
The child ran quickly with its gathered prize,
And, laughing, held it high above its head;
A light glowed bright within the woman’s eyes,
And in that light a mother’s love I read.
She took the little hand, and both passed on;