And can you guess what grandma thinks
The sweetest thing she raises?
You're wrong, it's not the violet,
Nor yet this pure white lily:
It is this straggling mignonette,--
I know you think it silly,--
But hear my story; then, perhaps,
You'll freely grant me pardon.
(See how the spiders set their traps
All over grandma's garden.)
Long since I had a little friend,
Dear as your darling sister,
And she from over sea, did send
This token, ere Death kissed her:
'Twas in a box, a tiny slip,
With word just how to set it:
And now I kiss its fragrant tip,--
You see I can't forget it.


[Illustration]


Well, here I get thyme, sage, and mint,
Sweet marjoram and savory;
(Cook says they always give a hint
Of summer, rich and flavory);
Here's caraway--take, if you will:
Fennel and coriander
Hang over beds of daffodil,