HID in a close and lowly nook In a city yard where no grass grows -- Wherein nor sun, nor stars may look Full-faced,- are planted three short rows Of pansies, geraniums, and a rose. A little girl with quiet, wide eyes, Slender figured, in tattered gown, Whose pallored face no country skies Have quickened to a healthy brown, Made this garden in the barren town. Poor little flowers, your life is hard; No sun, nor wind, nor evening dew. Poor little maid, whose city yard Is a world of happy dreams to you -- God grant some day your dreams come true. |