Fringed Gentian

by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

Near where I live there is a lake

As blue as blue can be, winds make

It dance as they go blowing by.

I think it curtseys to the sky.

It's just a lake of lovely flowers

And my Mamma says they are ours;

But they are not like those we grow

To be our very own, you know.

We have a splendid garden, there

Are lots of flowers everywhere;

Roses, and pinks, and four o'clocks

And hollyhocks, and evening stocks.

Mamma lets us pick them, but never

Must we pick any gentians -- ever!

For if we carried them away

They'd die of homesickness that day.