CHILD-FANCIES, a poem

ASPHODEL

THE children played at naming, every one
     Her favorite blossom, in the mild June even;
When, at the last, the others having done,
     A little maid—her years but numbered seven—

Stood shyly forth and answered in her turn:
     "Pale violets I love,—and love full well
Red poppies, which the elves for torches burn,—
     But for my own I choose—the asphodel."

Indignant stared the children; then they cried—
     Amid their pastime ready still for strife—
"The asphodel! You only choose through pride
     A flower you never saw in all your life!"

Abashed, the culprit hung her pretty head,
     As she accusèd of a crime had been;
Then, bravely, with conviction sweet she said:—
     "But I love best the flower I have not seen!"

Ah, wistful child! Such lonely dreams as thine
     Others have cherished in their hearts, I ween,—
And, grateful for all good, with thee incline
     To love the best the flower they have not seen!

II
GATHERED WILD-FLOWERS

I've brought you some flowers, mother!
     Please look at them, mother, look!
See this one!—and here's another
     I found beside the brook!

They're very warm, for I held them tight;
     You'll want them, I know, to keep,
When they wake again and you see them right,—
     But now they're all asleep.

"Child-Fancies" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lyrics of Life (1909).