O the fluttering and the pattering of the green things growing,How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;In the wonderful light of the weird moonlightOr the dim, dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing.I love, I love them so—my green things growing,And I think that they love me, without false showing,For by many a tender touch they comfort me so muchWith the soft mute comfort of green things growing.—Dinah Mulock Craike.
O the fluttering and the pattering of the green things growing,How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;In the wonderful light of the weird moonlightOr the dim, dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing.I love, I love them so—my green things growing,And I think that they love me, without false showing,For by many a tender touch they comfort me so muchWith the soft mute comfort of green things growing.—Dinah Mulock Craike.
O the fluttering and the pattering of the green things growing,How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;In the wonderful light of the weird moonlightOr the dim, dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing.
O the fluttering and the pattering of the green things growing,
How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;
In the wonderful light of the weird moonlight
Or the dim, dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing.
I love, I love them so—my green things growing,And I think that they love me, without false showing,For by many a tender touch they comfort me so muchWith the soft mute comfort of green things growing.—Dinah Mulock Craike.
I love, I love them so—my green things growing,
And I think that they love me, without false showing,
For by many a tender touch they comfort me so much
With the soft mute comfort of green things growing.
—Dinah Mulock Craike.