24 
Floral Poetry. 
A WILD FLOWER. 
YAOWN the shadowed lane she goes, 
U And her arms are laden 
With the Woodbine and Wild Rose— 
Happy little maiden ! 
Sweetly, sweetly doth she sing 
As the lark above her : 
Surely every living thing 
That has seen must love her. 
As she strayed and as she sung, 
Happy little maiden ! 
Shadowy lanes and dells among, 
With wild flowers laden, 
Chanced a bonny youth that way, 
For the lanes were shady : 
She dropped one wee flower, they say, 
Did this little lady. 
Dropped a flower, so they say; 
Dropped, and never missed it; 
And the youth, alack-a-day ! 
Picked it up and kissed it. 
Now in sweet lane wanderings, 
With love flowers laden, 
With her love she strays and sings, 
Happy little maiden ! 
