Orphaned.
Reading edition
Sunshine of golden floods all the earth over, Gold in the heart of the rose, Bountiful blooms all the garden walls cover, Gold on the buttercup shows, Wealth on the swaying grass. What can be kinder, Than blossoms all day to the bee? Riches, and wealth, and fair gold for the finder, But never a little for me. Ev’rywhere children cling close to their mother, Stars have their moon up above. “Kiss me good-night,” whispers sister and brother, “Good-night,” whispers dear mother-love. Mother-bird folds her wings over, to cover Little birds up in the tree, Love it is—love—and sweet love the world over, But never a little to me. Rest for the bird, in her nest in the willow, Rest for the butterfly’s wings, So many tired heads find a heart-pillow, So many sweet, restful things. Fair little islands, all silent and lonely, Rest in the arms of the sea, I am so tired—why should it be only That never comes rest unto me?
