Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 2.djvu/394

 368 A COTTAGE.

In a bed that trundled under One of wide and higher frame,

In the corner bed-room yonder, I have slept and waked again,

With a sense of dewy sweetness Flooding all my drowsy brain.

��Sometimes morning dreams were shattered

By a wet touch on my face — Dew and blossoms o'er me scattered

Roused me from my resting place, While a laugh came through the window

Where the branches interlace.

��Did the roses bloom all summer In that lovely far off time ?

Did the breezes ever murmur, Like low sentences that rhyme ?

Ah ! no thorn, no blight, no blemish Mar these memories of mine.

��Many useful lessons taught me, In that cottage snug and small,

To the changing years have brought me, Help that I shall oft' recall ;

But the memory of the roses Clings the closest of them all.

�� �