Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 3 — Foreword

_In the first rare Spring of song, In my heart’s young hours, In my youth ’twas thus I sang, Choosing ’mid the flowers_:-- “_Fair the Dandelion is, But for me too lowly;

And the winsome Violet Is, forsooth, too holy.

‘But the Touch-me-not?

’--Go to!

What!

a face that’s speckled Like a common milking-maid’s, Whom the sun hath freckled.

Then the Wild-Rose is a flirt;

And the Trillium-Lily, In her spotless gown, ’s a prude, Sanctified and silly.

By her cap the Columbine, To my mind, ’s too merry-- Gossips, I would sooner woo Some plebeian Berry.

And the shy Anemone-- Well, her face shows sorrow;

Pale, goodsooth!

alive to-day, Dead and gone to-morrow.

Then that hold-eyed, buxom wench, Big and blond and lazy,-- She’s been chosen over oft!

-- Sirs, I mean the Daisy.

Pleasant persons are they all, And their virtues many;

Faith!

I know but good of each, And naught ill of any.

But I choose a May-Apple;

She shall be my Lady;

Blooming, hidden and refined, Sweet in places shady.

”_ _In my youth ’twas thus I sang, In my heart’s young hours, In the first rare Spring of song, Choosing ’mid the flowers.

So I hesitated when Time alone was reckoned By the hours that Fancy smiled, Love and Beauty beckoned.

Hard it was for me to choose From the flowers that flattered;_ _And the blossom that I chose Soon lay dead and scattered.

Hard I found it then, ah me!

Hard I found the choosing;

Harder, harder since I’ve found, All too hard, the losing.

Haply had I chosen then From the weeds that tangle Wayside, woodland, and the wall Of my garden’s angle, I had chosen better, yea, For these later hours-- Longer live the weeds, and oft Sweeter are than flowers.

_ WEEDS BY THE WALL

THE CRICKET