Miss Lavender

Lavender, Miss Lavender, I called her once, in play,
Tho' no one ever spoke to her or passed her by the way,

And yet 'tis very certain that a maid divinely fair
Inhabits my sweet garden, tho' I do not quite know where.

I seem to hear her footstep with the first bright glint of morn
As she laughs along the borders, or walks upon the lawn;

And once I saw her dainty gown beyond the flowering bed,
Yet, when I turned the garden path, Miss Lavender had fled.

—D.H.

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