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’er 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.