THE PRIVET HEDGE
The common pavement dull and greyIs strewn with leafy wands to-day,And sceptres green to the curb’s edge—For they have cut the privet hedge.My Baby gathers, bending down,The branches swept by Mother’s gownAnd carries home into the houseThose magical and royal boughs.But O the milky blossoms sweetThat scented all the sunny street—Crushed by the Baby’s sandalled treadThey lie behind her, brown and dead.
The common pavement dull and greyIs strewn with leafy wands to-day,And sceptres green to the curb’s edge—For they have cut the privet hedge.My Baby gathers, bending down,The branches swept by Mother’s gownAnd carries home into the houseThose magical and royal boughs.But O the milky blossoms sweetThat scented all the sunny street—Crushed by the Baby’s sandalled treadThey lie behind her, brown and dead.
The common pavement dull and greyIs strewn with leafy wands to-day,And sceptres green to the curb’s edge—For they have cut the privet hedge.
My Baby gathers, bending down,The branches swept by Mother’s gownAnd carries home into the houseThose magical and royal boughs.
But O the milky blossoms sweetThat scented all the sunny street—Crushed by the Baby’s sandalled treadThey lie behind her, brown and dead.