Page:The Book of Gems.pdf/4

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The fields were covered over With colours, as she went; Daisy, buttercup, and clover, Below her footsteps bent. Summer shed its shining store, She was happy as she prest them Beneath her little feet; She pluck'd them and caress'd them;— They were so very sweet, They had never seemed so sweet before, To Red Riding Hood, the darling,— The flower of fairy lore.

How the heart of childhood dances Upon a sunny day! It has its own romances, And a wide, wide world have they! A world where phantasie is king, Made all of eager dreaming,— When once grown up and tall; Now is the time for scheming, Then we shall do them all! Do such pleasant fancies spring For Red Riding Hood, the darling,— The flower of fairy lore.

She seems like an ideal love, The poetry of childhood shown, And yet loved with a real love, As if she were our own; A younger sister for the heart; Like the woodland pheasant, Her hair is brown and bright; And her smile is pleasant, With its rosy light. Never can the memory part With Red Riding Hood, the darling,— The flower of fairy lore.

Did the painter, dreaming In a morning hour, Catch the fairy seeming Of this fairy flower?