I've stayed there, whispering and listening there,
In the little green orchard.

Only it's strange to be feeling there,
In the little green orchard;
Whether you paint or draw,
Dig, hammer, chop or saw,
When you are most alone,
All but the silence gone ...
Some one is waiting and watching there,
In the little green orchard.


FIREFLIES: LOUISE DRISCOLL

What are you, fireflies,
That come as daylight dies?
Are you the old, old dead,
Creeping through the long grass,
To see the green leaves move
And feel the light wind pass?

The larkspur in my garden
Is a sea of rose and blue,
The white moth is a ghost ship
Drifting through.

The shadows fall like lilacs
Raining from a garden sky,
Pollen laden bees go home,