Читать книгу The Life of Sir William Quiller Orchardson - Hilda Orchardson Gray - Страница 22
The rose the lily from their stalk Fall trembling neath sere autumn skies, And every gem in Flora’s walk Gleams but awhile then faded dies. But such is not the fate of Love It withers not but still doth rise Where planted by the hand above, The only flower which never dies. Oh! such an eye To kill or cure again.
ОглавлениеAmy, Kate, Sophy, Mary, Helen, Nell, Emily, Isabel, besides Miss Fisher and the charming Three, all come into these “curly” times, and their names and the poems have been preserved by my Mother for this book.
An almost illegible scrawl seems to be an account of a dream picnic “with sunshine dappling the sward,” and several flirtations going on, from which I deduce that flirtatious picnics were frequent amusements.
“I do prefer the City” remained true of Orchardson all his life, but that he greatly appreciated Nature is, I think, shown by the following, which may be called “Winter”:
