Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/48



light breeze is blowing

Around the king's forest:

The maiden is hasting,

She hastes to the stream;

She scoops with her bucket

The fresh flowing waters:

But look! to the maiden

The stream bears a nosegay,

A nosegay of fragrance,

Of violets and roses;—

The maiden outstretches

Her hand to obtain it:

She falls—Ah! she falls in

The cold running water.

O! had I but known it,

Thou beautiful nosegay!

But known on the borders

Who planted thy beauties,

In faith, I would give him

A ring of pure gold!