Daisies, does he love me? Daisies, tell me true. “Loves me * * * does not love me” * * * That will never do! Why, you know, you daisies, Whatever you may say, He stole that knot of riband I wore the other day. Daisies, one more trial; Let your petals fall. “Loves me * * * does not love me * * * Loves me,” after all! Thank you, darling daisies, And if it ends that way I’ll wear you in a garland Upon my wedding day. _1878._ [Illustration] [Illustration] Impromptu. (On being asked for some verses.) I love the silver dawn of night That melts the dark away; The ecstacy of pallid light That bathes the ended day; When leaf by leaf the slumbrous trees Begin to talk anew; And that sweet almoner, the breeze, Fills every cup with dew; When on the fevered brow of toil Eve lays a soothing palm, And whispers softly to the soul: “This hour was made for calm.” _1876._ [Illustration] Notre Dame des Fleurs. To F. S. W. Rosy, and fair, and fragrant, Your vassals, the flowers, come, Bearing a welcome to us From the heart of your sunlit home; Delicate garlands, wreathing With brightness these dreary hours; Red lips and white lips, breathing Of you, our Lady of Flowers! Violets, blue as your eyes are And roses, as soft as your cheek,-- Daphne, sweet as your words are,-- Primroses pallid and meek; Feathery, waving fern-plumes, And blossoms from Summer bowers, Each one bearing a message From you, our Lady of Flowers! Giver of brightness and beauty, And Queen of this fragrant throng, How shall we thank you or praise you But feebly in this poor song? We, whom you crown with blossoms, Whom richly your kindness dowers, We must be silent and love you,-- Love you, our Lady of Flowers! _November 25, 1878._ [Illustration] [Illustration] Translations from the German. THREE SONGS FROM THE GERMAN OF EMANUEL GEIBEL. I. (“Mein Pferd geht langsam durch die nacht.”) My steed goes slowly through the night; The moon is half in shadow, With clouds that steal across her light Like lambs across a meadow. A sudden stillness fills my heart, With grief so lately movèd, For in thy thoughts I have a part, Tonight, my best belovèd. In every whisper of the wind Thy greeting I discover; O may’st thou in the breezes find The kisses of thy lover. [Illustration] [Illustration] II. (“Schöne Lilie.”) Spotless lily in the garden, Fair and high on slender stem, In the morning breeze thou wavest Like a dainty silver flame.