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A gentle creature was that girl, Meek, humble, and subdued; Like some lone flower that has grown up   In woodland solitude.

Its soil has had but little care, Its growth but little praise; And down it droops the timid head It has not strength to raise.

For other brighter blooms are round, And they attract the eye; They seem the sunny favourites Of summer, earth and sky.

The human and the woodland flower Hath yet a dearer part,— The perfume of the hidden depths, The sweetness at the heart.

" must wear these to-day, my dear child," said Lord Norbourne, as, entering the dressing