Happy Birthday, Sweet Lavender Girl!

The Lavender Beds
by William Brighty Rands

The garden was pleasant
with old-fashioned flowers,
The sunflowers and hollyhocks
stood up like towers:
There were dark turncap lilies
and jessamine rare,
And sweet thyme and marjoram
scented the air.

The moon made the sun-dial
tell the time wrong;
'Twas too late in the year
for the nightingale's song;
The box-trees were clipped,
and the alleys were straight,
Till you came to the shrubbery
hard by the gate.
The fairies stepped out
of the lavender beds,
With mob-caps, or wigs, on their quaint
little heads,
My lord had a sword and my lady a fan;
The music struck up and the dancing began.
I watched them go through with a grave minuet;
Wherever they footed the dew was not wet;
They bowled and they curtsied, the brave and the fair;
And laughter like chirping of crickets was there.

Then all of a sudden a church clock
struck loud:
A flutter, a shiver, was seen in the crowd,
The cock crew, the wind woke, the trees
tossed their heads,
And the fairy folk hid in the lavender beds.