MAY 97 



Primrose, waiting the twilight hours. 

 Touch-me-nots, and gilliflowers. 

 Was it October or June, or May 

 Grandmother's garden was always gay. 



" In grandmother's garden the iris blue 

 Unfurled his banner, his snood leaves drew 

 And marshalled the slim, red tulips, tall, 

 The peony's bursting crimson ball, 

 The almond wands and the moss-pinks small, 

 Buttercups spendthrift of their gold, 

 Columbines misers of sweets untold, 

 Gay Sweet Williams, and four-o'-clocks, 

 Prodigal sheaves of the cool white phlox ; 

 The lovely army has long marched past 

 For grandmother's garden could not last: 



1 Grandmother's garden ! ah, who knows 

 In what far, heavenly land it grows I 

 Watched, perhaps, by her loving eyes ; 

 Kept for us as a glad surprise 

 When we shall reach her in Paradise ! 

 Not one missing, one tiniest leaf, 

 One breath of fragrance one bird-song brief 

 Nor ah, God grant it I one that played 

 Lad true-hearted or bright-eyed maid 

 In the shade the lilacs used to throw 

 In grandmother's garden long ago ! " 



And then the apple-trees ! There was much 

 grass in the place, and where the still acres 

 dipped toward the wood many violets were 

 blue in April, and early in May turned down 

 the borders of their caps to make ready for 



