Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/66

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Morning-glories, tents of purple Stretched on bars of creamy white, Folding up their satin curtains Inward through the dewy night.

Marigold, with coat of velvet Streaked with gold and yellow lace, With its love for summer sunlight Written on its honest face.

Dainty pink, with feathered petals Tinted, curled, and deeply frayed, With its calyx heart, half broken, On its leaves uplifted laid.

Can t you see them in the garden, Where dear grandma takes her nap? See cherry blooms shake softly over Silver hair and snowy cap?

Will the modern florist's triumph Look so fair, or smell so sweet, As those dear old-fashioned posies Blooming round our grandame's feet?





HE tale of the summer is ended, The stage-coach has passed the old mill, The roll of the wheels echoes softly, Yet I by the gate linger still. 