Lays: 18

Sitting by a meadow brook,
In the month of June,
Once a short repose I took,
Just at sunny noon.

Blossoms, many-tinted, shone
O'er the meadow far;
But one blossom stood alone,
'Mong them all a star.

Once it seemed a full-blown rose;
Golden lily then:
Wreaths of snowdrops now unclose;
Blooms the rose again.

Who can tell the wondrous flower,—
Flower that reigns alone?
He who beauty's magic power
O'er the heart has known.
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