Classic Poem

WOOD-SORREL .

THE FLOWER PLAY .

How soon a bright and happy child
Will catch our playful tone,
And, glad to have a frolic wild,
Match our mirth with her own!

I said to Anna once — " Good night,
My precious Mignionette! "
And she replied, with quick delight —
" Good night, my Violet! "

I tried again — " Good night, my Pink,
My Jessamine, my Laurel! "
She pressed her lip — " I cannot think —
Oh, yes! good night, my Sorrel! "

Once more I spoke in pleased surprise —
" Good night, my little Foxglove! "
She answered me with laughing eyes —
" Good night, my piece of Box, love! "

I thought to tire her baby-brain;
But no! she 'd not give up.
" Good night, my Rose! " — she laughed again —
" Good night, my Buttercup! "

But little versed in Flora's lore,
Is Anna; — yet an hour,
She racked her infant mind for more,
And gave me flower for flower!

Weary at last — she sighed out, while
Her brow began to wrinkle,
With desperate tone and sleepy smile —
" Good night, my Periwinkle! "