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In the Garden
The roses blushed a deeper red,
The lilies looked more saintly,
The sweet-alyssum hung its head,
And smiled and frowned most quaintly;
The daisies even, at my feet,
Were strangely knowing, strangely sweet;
The hollyhocks against the wall,
So serious and old-fashioned,
Were all astir, the larkspur tall
Seemed really quite impassioned.
I pondered, but I could not guess
What made their sudden consciousness.
Where'er I looked, their little eyes
Were eager, wise and tender,
As if they had some new surprise
Or sympathy to render —