TIM’S FOXGLOVE

THERE’S a foxglove, foxglove, foxglove in my garden-
plot,

Home of yellow-belted bees humming round the spot,

Honey-merchants flying fast from out their dumpy
cottages

Crowded in companionship by six elm-trees.

There’s a foxglove, foxglove, foxglove in. my pansy-

patch,

Decked so brightly by the rain, there never was its
match ;

Made of petals velvety and russet blots and lovely
smells,

Shaking dewy clappers in its peal of bells.

There’s a foxglove, foxglove, foxglove in my garden-
ground,

Never mortal listener shall hear its tinkling sound ;

When the stars are tired of dancing, when the elves to
dreamland creep,

Why, ev'ry bell’s a bedroom where the fairies sleep.