The gardener’s cottage is standing under
The trees that shadow the winding way,

(Is ought so fair in the world I wonder—
As orchard boughs in the month of May.

That swing in the fragrant air, and scatter
Rose-lit petals upon the lea ;
What does the world and its riches matter

Here’s riches enough, and to spare for me.

So thinks the maiden so fresh and pretty,
Resting awhile at the cottage door
Carolling blithely her tuneful ditty,
e AE é When birds are a-bed, and
her tasks are over.

Heten Marron Burnsib&-