A DAISY CHAIN. HE white rose decks the breast of May, Yet autumn chills and winter kills And leaves their stems alone; Ah, swiftly dies the garden's pride Whose sleep no waking knows,— But my love she is the daisy That all the long year grows. The early woods are gay with green, The blue-bell hangs her shining head, No more the oxslip blows, But my love she is the daisy That all the long year grows. Still deck, wild woods, your mantle green, Let showers of spring fresh violets bring Whilst summer boasts her roses red And March her scented snows,— My love be still the daisy, And my heart whereon she grows. H. CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL. A WILD WOOD SPELL. OME to the woods, Medora, Come to the woods with me; The leaves are green, the summer sheen Up in the woods, Medora, Around, above, they sing of love, So let me sing to thee! On the low thorn, Medora, The finch is fair to see, A jewel bright, a heart's delight Ah! so art thou to me. From the dark pines, Medora, There flows a balmy sea; The air's soft kiss is heavenly bliss How sweet art thou to me! Through the wood-moss, Medora, Away, away,—they will not stay; Come to the woods, Medora, Come to the shade with me; The roses bloom in that sweet gloom So bloom, dear rose, for me! EARL OF SOUTHESK. F REINE D'AMOUR. LOSE as the stars along the sky, And each one sigh'd as I went by, And take her for my Queen. And one in virgin white was drest Each whispering I should pluck her there And take her for my Queen. |