Gardens 4

The pied wind-flower and the tulip tall,

And narcissi, the fairest among them all,

And the Naiad-like lily of the vale,

Whom youth makes so fair and passion SO pale,

And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue,

Which Sung from its bells a sweet peal anew.

And See His Own Crop,

A thankful man is he,

For he thinks, all through the winter

How rich his board will be!

And how his merry little ones

Around the fire will stand,

Each with a large potato

In a round and rosy hand.


Now the sun is in the skies,

From my bed again I rise;

Christ, thou never-setting Sun,

Shine on me, thy little one.