Living
In the Garden
From The Home Book of Verse, ed. Burton Egbert Stevenson (1918)
Living
I spied beside the garden bed
A tiny lass of ours,
Who stopped and bent her sunny head
Above the red June flowers.
Pushing the leaves and thorns apart,
She singled out a rose,
And in its inmost crimson heart,
Enraptured, plunged her nose.
"O dear, dear rose, come, tell me true —
Come, tell me true," said she,
"If I smell just as sweet to you
As you smell sweet to me!"
Cite this poem
MLA
Crosby, Ernest Howard. “In the Garden.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/crosby_eh/4/.
Chicago
Crosby, Ernest Howard. “In the Garden.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/crosby_eh/4/.
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