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16
POEMS.
Though the nurse is good and gentle and doth talk so calm and wise,
Yet I fain would have you near me, there are none like mother's eyes!

Oft I dream that you are holding just my two hands close and tight,
As you used when I was little in the starless winter's night.

Oh! I dream me ever daily I am wandering as of old
In the orchard and the meadows starred with buttercups of gold.

There I pluck the pink-tipped daisies, pull the fair faint cuckoo flower,
Twine the honeysuckle gaily round about our garden bower.

Dreaming still, I see the wind-flower blowing down the woodlands cool,
And the lovely water-lily floating idly on the pool.

Oh! I pine me for the roses, crimson, yellow, sunny-eyed,
Nestling 'neath a hundred leaflets dancing gaily in their pride.

Here, I never see a primrose nor a fairy daffodil,
Like the ones that grow and flourish by our cottage near the hill,