A STRANGE COUNTRY.
It's a strange story I must tell
Of a strange country, Louis? Well,
The strangest country that I know
Is one where palm-trees do not grow;
It lies within the very reach
Of your two hands, and blue-birds flit
Among the flowers of pear and peach,
In pleasant dews, all over it.
Of a strange country, Louis? Well,
The strangest country that I know
Is one where palm-trees do not grow;
It lies within the very reach
Of your two hands, and blue-birds flit
Among the flowers of pear and peach,
In pleasant dews, all over it.
In this strange country, then, last night,
A lady in the gracious light
Of garden-lamps and rising moon
(Hush! you may do your guessing soon),
With bits of stone she chose to wear,
That elfin queens, perhaps, had lost,
Outflashed the fire-flies in the air,—
And what a sum her party cost!
A lady in the gracious light
Of garden-lamps and rising moon
(Hush! you may do your guessing soon),
With bits of stone she chose to wear,
That elfin queens, perhaps, had lost,
Outflashed the fire-flies in the air,—
And what a sum her party cost!
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