'Among the Hollyhocks'

by Clara Thwaites

Sing among the hollyhocks,

"Summer, fare thee well!"

Ring the drooping blossoms

For a passing bell.

Droop the sunflowers, heavy discs

Totter to their fall.

Up the valley creep the mists

For a funeral pall.

Lingering roses woefully

In the cold expire.

Heap the dead and dying

For a funeral pyre.

While the gale is sighing,

While the wind makes moan,

Sigh among the hollyhocks

Of the summer flown.

The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 355,October 16, 1886

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