Some pansy, with its wondering baby eyes
Poor wayside nursling!—fixed in blank surprise
At the rough welcome of unfriendly skies;
Or golden daisy,—will it dare disclaim
The lion's tooth, to wear this gentler name?
Or blood-red salvia, with its lips aflame.
The storms have stripped the lily and the rose,
Still on its cheek the flush of summer glows,
And all its heart-leaves kindle as it blows.
So had I looked some bud of song to find
The careless winds of autumn left behind,
With these of earlier seasons' growth to bind.
Ah me! my skies are dark with sudden grief,
A flower lies faded on my garnered sheaf;
Yet let the sunshine gild this virgin leaf,
The joyous, blessed sunshine of the past,
Still with me, though the heavens are overcast,—
The light that shines while life and memory last.
Go, pictured rhymes, for loving readers meant;
Bring back the smiles your jocund morning lent,
And warm their hearts with sunbeams yet unspent!
BEVERLY FARMS, July 24, 1884.