And with little tears beginning to start,

And with smiles and blushes that come and go;

And I did not know what was in my heart,

Or else I pretended I did not know!

O sudden awaking from dream so fair!

'Tis the voice of my aunt, and I hear it say—

'Child, are you falling asleep in your chair?

Will you ever finish that collar, May?'

I caught up my work (I knew I was wrong),

Determin'd to finish it ere we sup;

But something within me, for me too strong,

Conquer'd myself, and I had to give up.

'O, my Aunt Bridget,' I timidly said,

'I am tired of stitching—I want to rest;

O let me gather the roses instead,

The young little roses the first and best.'

[pg 18]

Soft summer twilights caressing the air

Have buried the garden in lovely gloom;

But I knew that the eagerest roses there

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