A DROP OF DEW 99 



And her eyes, afore she shut 'em, 

 Whispered with a smile and said 



We must pick a bunch and putt 'em 

 In her hand when she wuz dead. 



But, as I wuz a-sayin', 



They ain't no style about 'em 

 Very gaudy er displaying 



But I wouldn't be without 'em, 

 'Cause I'm happier in these posies, 



And the hollyhawks and sich, 

 Than the hummin'-bird 'at noses 

 In the roses o' the rich. 



JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. 



A DROP OF DEW 



SEE how the Orient dew, 

 Shed from the bosom of the morn 



Into the blowing roses, 

 (Yet careless of its mansion new 

 For the clear region where 'twas born) 



Round in itself encloses, 

 And in its little globe's extent 

 Frames, as it can, its native element. 



How it the purple flower does slight, 



Scarce touching where it lies ; 



But gazing back upon the skies, 



Shines with a mournful light, 



Like its own tear, 

 Because so long divided from the sphere ; 



