Blushing and drooping, with her head bent low!
That's the wise child: she makes him ask twice over,
Lest he should think she views with too much rapture
Her first fine wealthy capture!
But,—though her path looks smooth, and though, alack!
All will be gay, till Time has painted black
The Marigold, her mother's chosen flower,—
Far brighter is my Heartsease, Love's own dower.
Mrs. Ramsbotham is staying with her niece in the country. She is much delighted with the rich colour of the spring bulbs, and says she at last understands the meaning of "as rich as Crocus."