Under my window, under my window, All in the Midsummer weather, Three little girls with fluttering curls Flit to and fro together:— There ’s Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, Leaning stealthily over, Merry and clear, the voice I hear, Of each glad-hearted rover. Ah! sly little Kate, she steals my roses; And Maud and Bell twine wreaths and posies, As merry as bees in clover. Under my window, under my window, In the blue Midsummer weather, Stealing slow, on a hushed tiptoe, I catch them all together:— Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with the scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, And off through the orchard closes; While Maud she flouts, and Bell she pouts, They scamper and drop their posies; But dear little Kate takes naught amiss, And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, And I give her all my roses.
Under My Window
Collection:
Sub Title:
Poems of Home: II. For Children
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Under my window, under my window, All in the Midsummer weather, Three little girls with fluttering curls Flit to and fro together:— There ’s Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window... |
Piped the Blackbird, on the beechwood spray, “Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What ’s your name?” quoth he,— “What ’s your name? O, stop and straight unfold, Pretty maid with showery curls of gold.”— “Little Bell,” said she. Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, Tossed aside her... |