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(In gratitude for her illustrations of A Child's Garden of Verses.)
He would have said, with radiant face,
"Dear Lady, in some fairy place
Some garden where (without a nurse)
They played their shadowy games in verse,
You must have met my bairns alone
And smiled, and took them for your own.
"They were more ragged then, perhaps,
They did not know the joy of laps,
A very lonely life they led
They never had been tucked in bed.
In spite of all their merry laughter
They badly needed looking after!
"These children of my wistful dreams
The magic of your brush now seems
To bring to life—I recognise
The golden heads, the dark brown eyes,
The dainty frocks, the slin bare legs
And all that love-of-children begs.
