THE FORGET-ME-NOT.
The spirit of the flowers one day
A-botanising went, folk say,
And stumbling o'er a lonely flower,
No habitant of lady's bower—
A tiny weed of palest blue,
Celestial nature's fairest hue;
While spiral stem, and leaves all green,
Of colour faint as childhood's dream,
Support the flower, in beauty grown,
Thus blooming in a wild alone;}—
And, conning o'er some name to bless
This tiny gem of loveliness,
The zephyring breeze the sound had caught,
And murmuring breathed—Forget-me-not.
A-botanising went, folk say,
And stumbling o'er a lonely flower,
No habitant of lady's bower—
A tiny weed of palest blue,
Celestial nature's fairest hue;
While spiral stem, and leaves all green,
Of colour faint as childhood's dream,
Support the flower, in beauty grown,
Thus blooming in a wild alone;}—
And, conning o'er some name to bless
This tiny gem of loveliness,
The zephyring breeze the sound had caught,
And murmuring breathed—Forget-me-not.
53
