Oh! it is little Margery who has a garden-bed, Wherein grow purple pansies and geraniums white and red, With feverfew and dahlias, and delicate pink phlox,...
Gay Summer sees the flowering Of buds that were the gift of Spring; And Winter counts the ripened sheaves That Autumn harvested. Who grieves When he at length has won the race,...
Dear Lady of Tranquillity, Ah! lightly have the years Their music on thy heart-strings played, and all the smiles and tears That mark the joy of living, that sound the depths of pain...