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SWEET-PEAS.
Like a breath of immortality,
Like a hint of youth unspent for aye;
Of love—Ah, well-a-day!
Say, ye sweetest of all sweet things,
Sweet-Peas,
What are ye likest?—what like ye?
The dream of Beauty, the wonder that clings
To snowy-lidded Innocence—
These mystic nebulæ
(Souls of flowers to be),
Lightly drifted hence,
And mingling straightway they became
Visible in pink and white,
In dainty-delicate forms like these,
And gat themselves a name;
Dew-christened in laver of morning light,
"Sweet-Peas!"
Like a hint of youth unspent for aye;
Of love—Ah, well-a-day!
Say, ye sweetest of all sweet things,
Sweet-Peas,
What are ye likest?—what like ye?
The dream of Beauty, the wonder that clings
To snowy-lidded Innocence—
These mystic nebulæ
(Souls of flowers to be),
Lightly drifted hence,
And mingling straightway they became
Visible in pink and white,
In dainty-delicate forms like these,
And gat themselves a name;
Dew-christened in laver of morning light,
"Sweet-Peas!"
Sweet-Peas! Sweet-Peas!
Here is a handful for her to wear
Who is sweet like them, and more stately-fair.
Lie, nosegay of blushes, mid snows of lace.
And match the bloom of her maiden face
When cometh her own sweetheart to share
The posy modest and debonair,
Whose dear bestowal shall bring him ease
And sweet assurances,
Dispelling sweet anxieties,
Sweet-Peas!
Here is a handful for her to wear
Who is sweet like them, and more stately-fair.
Lie, nosegay of blushes, mid snows of lace.
And match the bloom of her maiden face
When cometh her own sweetheart to share
The posy modest and debonair,
Whose dear bestowal shall bring him ease
And sweet assurances,
Dispelling sweet anxieties,
Sweet-Peas!
