TWO little birdies all in blue

Airily flitted the garden thro'.

(Pink blows the brier in summer-weather. )

And they could whistle a rondel true

Which all of the neighbors loved and knew

(Pink blows the brier in summer-weather.)

Now through the garden the north wind

goes,

And the bush is bent to the ground with

snows.

(Black turns the brier in winter-weather.)

Where are the little blue birds—who knows?

And where, oh where! is the pink brier-rose?

(Ahy sweet things come and depart together!)

A CASTLE IN SPAIN.

THE draggled lilies were beaten down

As if by a prancing hoof;

The roses swayed, and the warm rain came,

Like the patter of pearls, on the roof.

Up in the garret the darling sat

In her little gown of blue,

With her lily cheeks and her rosebud lips,

And dreamed as she loved to do.

Bundles of herbs from the rafters hung;

There was many a quaint old chest,

A cradle of oak, and a spinning-wheel,

In the chimney a swallow's nest.

The darling she sat in a straight-backed chair,

With her face 'gainst the window-pane,

Her little hands folded across her lap,

And she builded her Castle in Spain.

Original

And never a magic palace rose,

In the days of the Moorish kings,

As fair as the Castle the darling built

From her sweet imaginings.

Rosy and green were the walls, like the

heart

Of a murmuring ocean-shell;

There were jewelled spires, and a slender

tower

With a swinging silver bell.

And up to the gold-hasped door there ran,

On a carven ivory stair,

The darling herself in rosy silk,

With pearls in her yellow hair.

Then the beautiful door swung open wide,

And she entered a marble hall

Where marble nymphs, with golden lamps,

Stood ranged against the wall.

Original

The darling danced like a puff o' down

Over the marble floor,

And she gleefully sped from hall to hall,

And opened each golden door;

And chambers she found whose lofty walls

With jewels were all acrust,

With windows of pearl, and ivory floors

Scattered over with diamond-dust.

And oft up a staircase rail she saw

A flowering garland twist,

With ruby lilies, and roses of gold,

And myrtle of amethyst.

(The south wind blew; on the garret-roof

Fell faster the summer rain;)

A wonderful garden the darling found

Around the Castle in Spain:

Apple-branches all white with flowers,

A hive of stingless bees,

Robins, with nests of woven gold,

On the boughs of the cherry-trees;

Lilies as tall as the darling's self,

Of silver and gold and blue,

Banks of primrose and mignonette,

And violets wet with dew;

Poppies, with bees asleep in their cups,

Tulips of purple and red,

Honeysuckles and humming-birds,

Rose-branches over her head;

A velvet sward in an open space,

A fountain of tinkling pearls;

And the darling herself in a violet gown,

With hyacinths in her curls,

With her apron full of roses and pearls,

Singing a song so clear

That the bees and the yellow butterflies

Came flying round to hear.

Then the darling danced down a flowery path,

Still singing her song so sweet,

With hawthorn branches on either hand,

And crocuses under feet.

And she found a beautiful blue-eyed prince

Asleep in a thicket dim,

Caught in a bramble-rose which grew

By magic over him.

Thro' the leaves and roses she scarce could see

His head with its flaxen curls,

His rosy cheeks, and his velvet coat

With its buttons of milky pearls.

And the poor little prince, if he chanced to

stir

As he dreamed in his magic sleep,

Was pierced by a thorn of the bramble-rose—

And the darling began to weep.

Then a bright tear dropt on the bramble-rose,

And away from the prince it fell,

And he woke from his sleep—and loud and

sweet

Rang the chimes of the Castle bell!

The darling sat in her straight-backed chair,

With her soft cheeks flushing red;

And she sighed, for the prince and the castle

fair

And the roses and pearls had fled.

She wistfully looked thro' the rain-splashed

pane:

"'Tis a sad and stormy day,

And not so much as a rose have I brought

From my Castle in Spain away!"

She did not know as she sat and watched,

The darling, the pattering rain—

On her soft little cheek she carried a rose,

A rose from her Castle in Spain.