THEY ain't no style about 'em, And they're sort o' pale and faded Yit the doorway here, without 'em, Would be lonesomer, and shaded With a good 'eal blacker shadder Than the morning-glories makes, And the sunshine would look sadder Fer their good old-fashion' sakes. I like 'em 'cause they kind o' Sort o' @3make@1 a feller like 'em! And I tell you, when I find a Bunch out whur the sun kin strike 'em, It allus sets me thinkin' O' the ones 'at used to grow And peek in through the chinkin' O' the cabin, don't you know! And then I think o' mother, And how she ust to love 'em -- When they wuzn't any other, 'Less she found 'em up above 'em! And her eyes, afore she shut 'em, Whispered with a smile and said We must pick a bunch and putt 'em In her hand when she wuz dead. But, as I wuz a-sayin', They ain't no style about 'em Very gaudy er displayin', But I wouldn't be without 'em, -- 'Cause I'm happier in these posies, And hollyhawks and sich, Than the hummin'-bird 'at noses In the roses of the rich. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SWEET STAY-AT-HOME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THOUGHTS OF PHENA AT NEWS OF HER DEATH by THOMAS HARDY TIME TO RISE by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AT BETHLEHEM: 3. TO HIS MOTHER by JOHN BANISTER TABB THE LAY OF MR. COLT by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN SUPPLICATION by MARGARET H. BRANDON |