DOLLY’S GARDEN
This is Dolly’s garden,
All her “very own,”
Every flower that’s in it
By her hand was sown—
Never out of Eden
Were such blossoms blown.
Like her eyes those pansies,
Deep and dark and blue—
As her soul those lilies,
Pure and white and true;
Frail earth-flowers and fading—
Dolly’s fading too.
This was Dolly’s garden,
Here I stand alone,
Dolly’s tending blossoms
Near the Great White Throne:
Dolly now has heaven
For her “very own.”
IN A DREAM-SHIP
She sailed away one summer day
In a ship of shining shell:
Her cloak was a butterfly’s gauzy wing,
Her bonnet a big blue-bell,
Her bed was a lady’s slipper,
Her blankets the leaves of a rose,
And a cushion of thistledown had she,
Just to rest her tiny toes.
With golden oars from the earth’s dark shores
She was borne o’er a silver sea;
And she never feared as the captain steered
For the land where she wished to be.
And this was the song,
As they drifted along,
That she sang from the ship of shell—
“Oh, we are bound
For enchanted ground;
It’s there that the fairies dwell.”
But a storm swept over the silver sea,
And the little maid awoke
As against the side of the fair frail barque
A cruel billow broke;
And she rubbed her eyes, and she pinched her arm,
And fearfully peeped around;
But instead of a ship “for fairyland”
She had boarded a “homeward-bound.”