FORESIGHT.

That is work which I am rueing —

Do as Charles and I are doing!

Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,

We must spare them — here are many:

Look at it — the Flower is small,

Small and low, though fair as any:

Do not touch it! summers two

I am older, Anne, than you.

Pull the Primrose, Sister Anne!

Pull as many as you can.

— Here are Daisies, take your fill;

Pansies, and the Cuckow-flower:

Of the lofty Daffodil

Make your bed, and make your bower;

Fill your lap, and fill your bosom;

Only spare the Strawberry-blossom!

Primroses, the Spring may love them —

Summer knows but little of them:

Violets, do what they will,

Wither'd on the ground must lie;

Daisies will be daisies still;

Daisies they must live and die:

Fill your lap, and fill your bosom,

Only spare the Strawberry-blossom!