EVENING PRIMROSES
Reading edition
While grey was the summer evening
Hast never a small sprite seen
Lighting the fragrant torches
For the feast of the Faerie Queen?
The buds in the primrose-bushes
Upspring into yellow light,
But ever the wee deft spirit
Escapes my bewildered sight.
Yet oft through the dusky garden
A dainty white moth will fly,
Or, pink as a pink rose-petal,
One lightly will waver by.
Perhaps 'tis the shape he comes in
Perhaps it is he, indeed,
Sir Moth or the merry Cobweb
Or the Whimsical Mustard-Seed!
Helen Gray Cone.
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