UNDER the shade of the lilies,

Down in the garden beds, 

Close by the side of the brooklet, 

The pansies lift their heads.

Black, and purple, and golden, 

Brown, and blue, and white; "

Under the shade of the lilies, 

Hid from the warm sunlight.

Tell me, beautiful pansies,

Close beside the stream, 

With your bright eyes looking upward,

Say, do you ever dream

Of the days when old King Winter 

Will sweep over the garden beds,

And the trail of his icy garments 

Will take off your bonny heads?

Nay, say the jolly pansies, 

Shaking their heads in a row;

What care we for the winter, 

With all his ice and snow?

Safe midst the roots of the lilies, 

We'll safely nestle and cling,

Till out of the sunny Southland 

Comes the warm breath of spring.


Vick's Magazine