English poem
A Charade
by Grace Greenwood (1823–1904)
I love my first on a summer eve, Or a breezy autumn morning; My soul bounds with it, and my heart Laughs out, all trouble scorning.
I love it by the wild sea-beach, When fades the sunset splendor, And the new moon, like a fairy boat, Sails through the sky-deeps tender.
My second brings up visions sad Of life's most fearful duty,-- Of green mounds hiding from our sight Dear forms of youth and beauty.
My third, if speaking slowly, clouds The brightest day with sadness; If quickly, thrills the air, and wakes The gloomiest morn to gladness.
It calls, and through the churchyard gate A funeral is creeping; It calls, and down the old church aisle A bridal train is sweeping!
My whole grew in a garden old, Round which my heart still lingers; Its azure petals formed a cup Fit for a fairy's fingers.
Canterbury-bell
THE END.