Classic Poem

ASPHODEL

The children played at naming, every one
Her favorite blossom, in the mild June even;
When, at the last, the others having done,
A little maid — her years but numbered seven —

Stood shyly forth and answered in her turn:
" Pale violets I love, — and love full well
Red poppies, which the elves for torches burn, —
But for my own I choose — the asphodel."

Indignant stared the children; then they cried —
Amid their pastime ready still for strife —
" The asphodel! You only choose through pride
A flower you never saw in all your life!"

Abashed, the culprit hung her pretty head,
As she accused of a crime had been;
Then, bravely, with conviction sweet she said: —
" But I love best the flower I have not seen!"

Ah, wistful child! Such lonely dreams as thine
Others have cherished in their hearts, I ween, —
And, grateful for all good, with thee incline
To love the best the flower they have not seen!

II

GATHERED WILD-FLOWERS

I ' VE brought you some flowers, mother!
Please look at them, mother, look!
See this one! — and here's another
I found beside the brook!

They 're very warm, for I held them tight;
You'll want them, I know, to keep,
When they wake again and you see them right, —
But now they are all asleep.