Page:The queen bee and other nature stories.djvu/20



(After CARL EWALD.)

We strayed, thy little hand in mine, One summer morning fresh and fine,
 * In a wood where birches met ;

A great sun-bonnet served as frame To rounded childish cheeks aflame -
 * Thy voice is ringing yet!

Of birdies' songs, of flowers, of trees - Whatever thy tender mind could seize -
 * I wove thee tales, my pet :

Ah, thou canst not remember if,
 * And I can ne'er forget!

And now my locks are thin and gray, For years since then have slipped away,
 * For gladness or regret!

And ah, the woods where now I roam, And those wide chambers of my home,
 * Know thee no more, Ninette!

Since I shall never find thee then, Oh, let this Book remind thee then
 * Of a wood where birches met:

For thou canst not remember it,
 * And I can ne'er forget!