Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/104

92 They were all too frail and tender,—
 * And alas! my fears were true.

One glad morn I went to see them
 * While the bright drops gemmed their snow

And one angel flower was withered,
 * Its fair petals drooping low.

Its white sister's tears fell on it,
 * And the sunbeam sadly shone;

For its innocence was withered,
 * And its purity was gone.

Still I left it there: I could not
 * Tear it rudely from its place;

It might rise again, and summer
 * Might restore its vanished grace.

But my hopes grew weaker, weaker.
 * And my heart with grief was pained

When I knew it must be severed
 * From the innocence it stained.