  JENNY T. RUPRECHT. Nomadic queen with softly petaled face, Thine is a beauteous throne where'er thou art, And thine a reign triumphant from the start; And though thy throne were in half-desert place, Or where thou may'st behold the brooklets race, Or just above the sleepy valley's heart, Or higher up the grasses tall to part— Queen of the fields! thou reign'st with witching grace. If shine, 'tis well; if shade, thou murmur'st not, For thou hast learned of nature patient trust— Glad of the cloudless light all golden wrought, Nor sad if shadows fall, as shadows must— All these shall flee before thy floral reign, And leave fresh charms throughout thy wide domain. |
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