Just Folks

Hollyhocks

          Old-fashioned flowers! I love them all:
          The morning-glories on the wall,
          The pansies in their patch of shade,
          The violets, stolen from a glade,
          The bleeding hearts and columbine,
          Have long been garden friends of mine;
          But memory every summer flocks
          About a clump of hollyhocks.

          The mother loved them years ago;
          Beside the fence they used to grow,
          And though the garden changed each year
          And certain blooms would disappear
          To give their places in the ground
          To something new that mother found,
          Some pretty bloom or rosebush rare—
          The hollyhocks were always there.

          It seems but yesterday to me
          She led me down the yard to see
          The first tall spires, with bloom aflame,
          And taught me to pronounce their name.
          And year by year I watched them grow,
          The first flowers I had come to know.
          And with the mother dear I'd yearn
          To see the hollyhocks return.

          The garden of my boyhood days
          With hollyhocks was kept ablaze;
          In all my recollections they
          In friendly columns nod and sway;
          And when to-day their blooms I see,
          Always the mother smiles at me;
          The mind's bright chambers, life unlocks
          Each summer with the hollyhocks.