For babyhood passed swiftly by,
And gone for ever,
If Daisy, laying softly down
A waxen doll in gaudy gown,
May hold her hands up for a crown
That shines for ever.
<poem>THE color-fairy in sorrow sat, With her brushes all awry ; Her palette, made of a tulip-leaf, Beside her laid, with its colors dry.
An order, straight from the Fairy Queen, Had come on a hum-bird's wing For a thousand elfin parasols, To be finished late in spring–
Some snowy-white, some azure-ribbed, Some of the rose's hue; But for the Queen the artist-elf Must make the color new.
Thus ran the scroll : "Red as the rose, Yet blue as Gentian s tender eyes; Red as the sunset s parting glow, Blue as a mountain-shadow lies."