The Summer Garden: A Very Charming Story

In a pretty little village in the south

There lived an old woman with her daughter;

Magery was her name and Claire, her daughter.

And it was by the faith of these two, that a beautiful enchanting paradise was found...

A place, you may already know — as the summer garden.

'Tis said, that one summer day, they saw
 A rosy flower lying on the ground,
 Which seemed to them like a rose itself;
 So they picked it up, and took it home,
 
To set before their cottage door.

From that hour, a shower fell every day,
 Some clear as crystal — some dark and drear,
 But all so bright and refreshing to see!

The rain shower, it allowed for the rose flower to grow

And more so did the flower, when slowly blossomed into a rose bush

And more so did the bush grow when it turned into a little nursery,

And more did the nursery too, when it became a beautiful garden!

In time the garden grew green and lush,

The roses bloomed in plenty — and camellias too,

With masses of blue forget-me-nots round,

And hollyhocks outspread from each hand;

Then came the bees with their humming buzz,

And butterflies fluttered through the air,

All in turn made the flowers gay.

The sun shone warm, but not too hot,
 The clouds passed away without delay,
 And the birds sang so merry there,
 That even the caterpillars could not be sad.
 For nectar and honey were to be found
 Deep down among the leaves, where the bees had trod;

And if you should take a walk about,

You would find the garden fair still;

Where birds sat upon the gate,

Or flew over the wall to watch and listen,

And squirrels were busy at their nut trees.

But most of all the birds that sing

Are those who seem least gayest of all,

Such as the sparrow and the robin.

There was a little bird that sat on the branch,

Who never could get his voice right,
 
As he sang 'twas so shrill and thin,
 
It sounded like a cat's purr.
 
He sang, too, a great deal of nonsense
 That no one heard but himself;

The only thing that pleased him best,
 Was to chatter of the queen bee.

The people in the village used to laugh,

When they heard him so proud and loud;

'Twas well he should, for the little fellow

Did but say what he thought ought to be;

'Tis true, he was not wise nor clever,

Yet he loved his little nest and garden,

And that was worth a good many words.

Ah yes, not a many was quite as enchanting as the summer garden!

Alas, there soon came a day of parting,

Summer had passed, and thegarden must now go its way,

with the cottage be left behind.

The mother and daughter were very sad,

To think they must leave their charming home,

And go far away to seek their fortune,

At the end of the world.

They packed their things, and bade their friends farewell,

And all went together down the road,
 The mother and the child,

And their gardener with his dear wife too!

So cheerfully and then sadly, winter came accordingly

And thoughts of that enchanting paradise still beguiled them so..
.
Such bittersweet longings they bore...
Yes, ever so deeply in their hearts

And never does a day nor night go by,

That they are not vaguely reminded of that enchanting place.

And never again does a season come or go,

that they do not dream of visiting — once more— their summer garden.