  SEE, what a wonderful garden is here, Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear! Search ye the country and hunt ye the town And never ye’ll meet with a garden so queer As 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—all Make proper obeisance and reverent cheer When into her garden steps Little-Oh-Dear! And up at the top of that lavender-tree A 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? Image unavailable: “A SILVER-BIRD SINGETH AS ONLY CAN SHE” “A SILVER-BIRD SINGETH AS ONLY CAN SHE” From her pathway of flowers that in spring-time upstart She walketh the tenderer way in my heart; And, oh, it is always the summer-time here With that song of “I love you,” my Little-Oh-Dear! |
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