THE THIRD BIRTHDAY
Three candles had her cake,Which now are burnt away;We wreathed it for her sakeWith currant-leaves and bayAnd the last gracesOf Michaelmas DaisiesPluckt on a misty day.Curled (as she cut her cake)In mine her fingers lay;Purple the petals brake,Bruised was the scented bay;Like a yellow mothOn the white white clothOne currant-leaf flew away.Three candles lit her state;Dimmed is their golden reign—Leaves on an empty plate,Petals and tallow-stain;Nor will sheNor the candles threeEver be three again.
Three candles had her cake,Which now are burnt away;We wreathed it for her sakeWith currant-leaves and bayAnd the last gracesOf Michaelmas DaisiesPluckt on a misty day.Curled (as she cut her cake)In mine her fingers lay;Purple the petals brake,Bruised was the scented bay;Like a yellow mothOn the white white clothOne currant-leaf flew away.Three candles lit her state;Dimmed is their golden reign—Leaves on an empty plate,Petals and tallow-stain;Nor will sheNor the candles threeEver be three again.
Three candles had her cake,Which now are burnt away;We wreathed it for her sakeWith currant-leaves and bayAnd the last gracesOf Michaelmas DaisiesPluckt on a misty day.
Curled (as she cut her cake)In mine her fingers lay;Purple the petals brake,Bruised was the scented bay;Like a yellow mothOn the white white clothOne currant-leaf flew away.
Three candles lit her state;Dimmed is their golden reign—Leaves on an empty plate,Petals and tallow-stain;Nor will sheNor the candles threeEver be three again.