A Game of Lawn Tennis

What wonder that I should be dreaming

   Out here in the garden to-day?

The light through the leaves is streaming,—

Paulina cries, "Play!"

The birds to each other are calling,

   The freshly-cut grasses smell sweet;

To Teddy's dismay, comes falling

       The ball at my feet.

"Your stroke should be over, not under!"

   "But that's such a difficult way!"

The place is a springtide wonder

       Of lilac and may;

Of lilac, and may, and laburnum,

   Of blossom,—We're losing the set!

"Those volleys of Jenny's,—return them;

   "Stand close to the net!"

* * * * * * *

You are so fond of the Maytime,

   My friend, far away;

Small wonder that I should be dreaming

   Of you in the garden to-day.