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See, what a wonderful garden is here, Planted and trimmed for my Little Oh-Dear! Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown— Search ye the country and hunt ye the town And never ye'll meet with a garden so queer As this one I've made for my Little Oh-Dear! Marigolds white and buttercups blue, Lilies all dabbled with honey and dew, The cactus that trails over trellis and wall, Roses and pansies and violets—all Make proper obeisance and reverent cheer When into her garden steps Little Oh-Dear! And up at the top of that lavender-tree A silver-bird singeth as only can she; For, ever and only, she singeth the song "I love you—I love you!" the happy day long;— Then the echo—the echo that smiteth me here! "I love you, I love you," my Little Oh-Dear! The garden may wither, the silver-bird fly— But what careth my little precious, or I? From her pathway of flowers that in spring-time upstart She walketh the tenderer way in my heart; And, oh, it is always the summer-time here With that song of "I love you," my Little Oh-Dear! |