SUMMER GONE.
195
Midst a naughty world and rude
Never in ungentle mood;
Never tired of being good—
My love Annie.
Never in ungentle mood;
Never tired of being good—
My love Annie.
Hundreds of the wise and great
Might o'erlook her meek estate;
But on her good angels wait,
My love Annie.
Might o'erlook her meek estate;
But on her good angels wait,
My love Annie.
Many or few the loves that may
Shine upon her silent way,—
God will love her night and day,
My love Annie.
Shine upon her silent way,—
God will love her night and day,
My love Annie.
SUMMER GONE.
MALL wren, mute pecking at the last red plum Or twittering idly at the yellowing boughs
Fruit-emptied, over thy forsaken house,—
Birdie, that seems to come
Telling, we too have spent our little store,
Our summer 's o'er:
