Page:Lyrics of Life, Coates, 1909.djvu/99



children played at naming, every one

Her favorite blossom, in the mild June even;

When, at the last, the others having done,

A little maid—her years but numbered seven—

Stood shyly forth and answered in her turn:

"Pale violets I love,—and love full well

Red poppies, which the elves for torches burn,—

But for my own I choose—the asphodel."

Indignant stared the children; then they cried—

Amid their pastime ready still for strife—

"The asphodel! You only choose through pride

A flower you never saw in all your life!"

Abashed, the culprit hung her pretty head,

As she accusèd of a crime had been;

Then, bravely, with conviction sweet she said:—

"But I love best the flower I have not seen!"

Ah, wistful child! Such lonely dreams as thine

Others have cherished in their hearts, I ween,—