Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/66

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Morning-glories, tents of purple
 Stretched on bars of creamy white,
Folding up their satin curtains
 Inward through the dewy night.

Marigold, with coat of velvet
 Streaked with gold and yellow lace,
With its love for summer sunlight
 Written on its honest face.

Dainty pink, with feathered petals
 Tinted, curled, and deeply frayed,
With its calyx heart, half broken,
 On its leaves uplifted laid.

Can t you see them in the garden,
 Where dear grandma takes her nap?
See cherry blooms shake softly over
 Silver hair and snowy cap?

Will the modern florist's triumph
 Look so fair, or smell so sweet,
As those dear old-fashioned posies
 Blooming round our grandame's feet?


THE tale of the summer is ended,
 The stage-coach has passed the old mill,
The roll of the wheels echoes softly,
 Yet I by the gate linger still.