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The poems of Mary Howitt

Chapter 64: THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.
By Mary Howitt
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Poetry

About This Book

A varied volume of lyrical and narrative poems, hymns, and moral pieces that blend domestic sentiment, Christian reflection, and close observation of the natural world. Organized into thematic sections—hymns and fireside verses, birds and flowers, sketches of natural history, tales in verse, and miscellaneous pieces—the poems range from gentle meditations on mortality and virtue to ballads and dramatic monologues, often aimed at or suitable for young readers. The collection pairs simple didactic storytelling with vivid rural imagery, and is accompanied by a brief memoir outlining the poet’s upbringing and literary influences.

THE CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.

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!