Читать книгу Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages онлайн

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"The flowers run wild—the flowers we sowed

Around our garden tree;

Our vine is drooping with its load—

Oh! call him back to me."

"He would not hear my voice, fair child!

He may not come to thee;

The face that once like spring-time smiled

On earth no more thou'lt see.

"A rose's brief, bright life of joy,

Such unto him was given;

Go—thou must play alone, my boy—

Thy brother is in heaven!"

"And has he left the birds and flowers,

And must I call in vain;

And through the long, long summer hours,

Will he not come again?

"And by the brook, and in the glade,

Are all our wanderings o'er?

Oh! while my brother with me played,

Would I had loved him more!"

Felicia Hemans

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The poplars are felled; farewell to the shade

And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;

The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,

Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.

Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view

Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew;

And now in the grass behold they are laid,