Jump to content

Littell's Living Age/Volume 140/Issue 1808/A Dialogue

From Wikisource

A DIALOGUE.
She.

The dandelions in the grass
Are blown to fairies' clocks,
On this green bank I pluckt (alas!)
The last of lady-smocks.

He.

Let them die,
What care I?
Roses come when field flowers pass.

 
She.

But these sun-sated, sultry hours
Will make your roses fall,
Their large, wide-open, crimson flowers
Must die like daisies small.

He.

Sweet as yet!
I'll forget
(When they die) they lived at all!

Mary F. Robinson.