The Favorite Flower

By Celia Thaxter

Illustrated by William T. Smedley

O the warm, sweet, mellow summer noon,
The golden calm and the perfumed air,
The chirp of birds and the locust's croon,
The rich flowers blossoming still and fair.
The old house lies 'mid the swarming leaves
Steeped in sunshine from porch to eaves,
With doors and windows thrown open wide
To welcome the beauty and bloom outside.

Through the gateway and down the walk,
Madge and grandmother, hand in hand
Come with laughter and happy talk,
And here by the marigolds stop and stand.
What a dear old pleasant place it is!
Cries the little maid in a trance of bliss,
Never anywhere could be found
So sweet a garden the whole world round!

Tell me, grandmother, which do you think,
Is the dearest flower for you that grows!
The phlox, or the marigold stars that wink,
Or the larkspur quaint, or the red, red rose?
Which do you love best, grandmother dear?
And the old dame smiles in the blue eyes clear --
Of all the flowers I ever possessed,
I think, my precious, I love you best!