Little-Oh Dear
See, what a wonderful garden is here,Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear!Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown—Search ye the country and hunt ye the townAnd never ye’ll meet with a garden so queerAs this one I’ve made for my Little-Oh-Dear!
Marigolds white and buttercups blue,Lilies all dabbled with honey and dew,The cactus that trails over trellis and wall,Roses and pansies and violets—allMake proper obeisance and reverent cheerWhen into her garden steps Little-Oh-Dear.
And up at the top of that lavender-treeA silver-bird singeth as only can she;For, ever and only, she singeth the song“I love you—I love you!” the happy day long;—Then the echo—the echo that smiteth me here!“I love you, I love you,” my Little-Oh-Dear!
The garden may wither, the silver-bird fly—But what careth my little precious, or I?From her pathway of flowers that in spring time upstartShe walketh the tenderer way in my heartAnd, oh, it is always the summer-time hereWith that song of “I love you,” my Little-Oh-Dear!