Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/108

102 Around the fairy's wildered head The morning-glories idly swung These painted new, those folded up, On vine and wreath they hung,

With dainty tips of malachite, With ribs of red or blue, Gay parasols for little folk— A thousand, lacking two.

All weary, worn, and in despair, The troubled fairy wept, Till, like a tiny globe of dew. A tear-drop softly crept.

Down from her eyes of emerald Over the robe she wore, Then pattered in the red and blue Which still the palette bore.

Then lo! a Tyrian royal hue Of tears that day was born; The Queen a purple shadow bore Proudly the fête-day morn.

WHEN JONQUILS BLOOM.

HAT shall we wear when jonquils bloom The hum of girlish chat Came softly to the ingle nook Where I a dreamer, sat