This page has been validated.
Golden Cassia
O brilliant blossoms that strew my way,
You are only woodland flowers they say.
But, I sometimes think that perchance you are
Fragments of some new-fallen star;
Or golden lamps for a fairy shrine,
Or golden pitchers for fairy wine.
Perchance you are, O frail and sweet!
Bright anklet-bells from the wild spring's feet,
48
