Put up thy work, dear mother; Dear mother come with me, For I’ve found within the garden, The beautiful sweet-pea! And rows of stately hollyhocks Down by the garden-wall, All yellow, white, and crimson, So many-hued and tall! And bending on their stalks, mother, Are roses white and red; And pale-stemmed balsams all a-blow, On every garden-bed. Put up thy work, I pray thee, And come out, mother dear! We used to buy these flowers, But they are growing here! Oh, mother! little Amy Would have loved these flowers to see;-- Dost remember how we tried to get For her a pink sweet-pea? Dost remember how she loved Those rose-leaves pale and sere? I wish she had but lived to see The lovely roses here! Put up thy work, dear mother, And wipe those tears away! And come into the garden Before ’tis set of day! CHILDHOOD. Oh, when I was a little child, My life was full of pleasure; I had four-and-twenty living things, And many another treasure. But chiefest was my sister dear, Oh, how I loved my sister! I never played at all with joy, If from my side I missed her. I can remember many a time, Up in the morning early,-- Up in the morn by break of day, When summer dews hung pearly; Out in the fields what joy it was, While the cowslip yet was bending, To see the large round moon grow dim, And the early lark ascending! I can remember too, we rose When the winter stars shone brightly; ’Twas an easy thing to shake off sleep, From spirits strong and sprightly. How beautiful were those winter skies, All frosty-bright and unclouded, And the garden-trees, like cypresses, Looked black, in the darkness shrouded! Then the deep, deep snows were beautiful, That fell through the long night stilly, When behold, at morn, like a silent plain, Lay the country wild and hilly! And the fir-trees down by the garden side, In their blackness towered more stately; And the lower trees were feathered with snow, That were bare and brown so lately. And then, when the rare hoar-frost would come, ’Twas all like a dream of wonder, When over us grew the crystal trees, And the crystal plants grew under! The garden all was enchanted land; All silent and without motion, Like a sudden growth of the stalactite, Or the corallines of ocean! ’Twas all like a fairy forest then, Where the diamond trees were growing, And within each branch the emerald green And the ruby red were glowing. I remember many a day we spent In the bright hay-harvest meadow; The glimmering heat of the noonday ground, And the hazy depth of shadow.