MIGNONETTE. 



I PASSED before her garden-gate : 



She stood among her roses, 

 And stooped a little from the state 



In which her pride reposes, 

 To make her flowers a graceful plea 

 For luring and delaying me. 



" When summer blossoms fade so soon," 

 She said with winning sweetness, 



" Who does not wear the badge of June 

 Lacks something of completeness. 



My garden welcomes you to-day, 



Come in and gather while you may." 



I entered in : she led me through 



A maze of leafy arches, 

 Where velvet-purple pansies grew 



Beneath the sighing larches, — 

 A shadowy, still, and cool retreat 

 That gave excuse for lingering feet. 



