My Choice

1895

What flower shall be mine? Oh, how can I choose
From the myriads that cover the plain?
Shall it be the wild rose that blooms in the wood
Or the buttercup down in the lane?

Fair are the lilies so stately and tall
That grow in the deep meadow grass,
And white are the daisies with bright starry eyes
That greet me whenever I pass.

Forgetmenots, too, so tiny and bright,
Reflecting the blue of the sky,
And cardinal flowers, with scarlet aflame.
Oh, why should I pass them by?

How, how can I choose? Shall it be the wind-flower
That, tremulous, sways in the breeze,
Or the orchid that blooms with a beauty so rare
In the shade of the tall forest trees?

Marsh marigolds grow by the side of the brook,
And here is the white meadow queen,
But I choose the blue violet, modest and sweet,
In its setting of emerald green.

—Vick's Monthly.