Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her--
The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina?
Oh, her eyes are blue as corn-flowers 'mid the corn,
And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn.
Oh, buy the baby's blossoms if you meet her,
And stay with gentle looks and words to greet her;
She'll gaze at you and smile and clasp your hand,
But not one word of yours can understand.
"Nikolina!" Swift she turns if any call her,
As she stands among the poppies, hardly taller;
Breaking off their flaming scarlet cups for you,
With spikes of slender larkspur, brightly blue.
In her little garden many a flower is growing--
Red, gold and purple, in the soft wind blowing;
But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay
Is sweeter, quainter, brighter, lovelier even than they.
Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her--
This baby girl from Norway, Nikolina?
Slowly she's learning English words to try
And thank you if her flowers you buy.
--_Celia Thaxter._
[4] Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Reprinted by
permission of the publishers.