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lirik lagu george whitefield chadwick - the foxglove

in grandmamma’s garden in shining rows
the box smells sweet as it trimly grows;
the sun~dial quaint the hours tells
‘mid foxgloves tall with spotted bells;
and all is dear, and all is fair
as childhood’s self had dwelling there

in grandmamma’s garden a child i played
with naught save bees to make afraid;
i counted the spots on the foxglove’s cheek
and knew it could tell, if it would but speak
how cunning fairies painted them
and made each like a shining gem

in grandmamma’s garden the foxgloves g~y
with every wind would nod and sway;
full well i knew that they were wise
and watched with childhood’s eager eyes
to see them whisper each to each
and catch the secrets of their speech

in grandmamma’s garden still i walk
and still the foxgloves seem to talk
their speech not yet my manhood learns
but when i see them youth returns;
i wonder at them still in vain
but with them am a child again

- lirik lagu george whitefield chadwick

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