Like brothers and sisters who love you so well?
Or do you look forward and sigh for that hour,
When we shall all meet in your jessamine bower?
Where vines that you planted, will wave o'er your head,
And nature's green carpet sweet odors will shed;
Each cool breeze is playing with flowers growing near,
Which sister has planted, our spirits to cheer.
Your roses and lilacs, among the pine trees,
Are swarming with butterflies, humbirds, and bees;
I view them each morning, all spark'ling with dew,