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For the Irises deep, and Convolvuli fair, 
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And each Blue-bell, thoiigh brilliant, and sweet, and rare. 
Aye, even the famed Forget-me-not, 
Were dim ’neath the sky of that fairy spot. 
But the Commeline-seedling resolved to show. 
Among eaithly flowers, that radiant glow. 
And eagerly gazed unwearied up, 
To catch a ray in her tiny cup. 
That when on her young stem flow’rets grew. 
They might robe them in Elf-land’s purest blue. 
When the Fairy returned to the flowers of earth. 
Young Commeline sank to her place of birth. 
And quietly slept in a darksome cell 
While the leaves grew sere, and brown, and fell. 
Through tlie chill frozen winter she lay asleep. 
Nor till Spring called her forth began to peep; 
But when Summer’s gay wreaths had clothed the bowers. 
Then, brightest of all, came the Commeline-flowers, 
All clad in the pure and the beautiful hue 
Of the Fairy-land heaven—celestial blue. 
The Flowers’ Fairy-queen paused, pleased and amazed. 
As, descending one day, for the first time she gazed 
On the brilliant and deep hue the Commeline wore. 
So far fairer than e’er she had seen it before. 
And from that day the sprite to loved Fairy-land flew 
Less often than e’er she was wonted to do; 
