From The Birmingham Age-Herald, May 15, 1913.
 By Samuel Minturn Peck.
 

 There was a little woman flower
     Sweeter far than all
 The violets and the daffodils
     That come at Springtime’s call.
 
 All the blossoms loved her,
     Even the happy birds;
 They piped their little hearts to her
     Because they had no words.
 
 ’Tis spring again. The skies are blue;
     Blossoms and birds I see
 But the little flower maiden—
     Oh tell me where is she!
 
 The sorrowing Wind low-answered:
     “Flower, and bird, and fern,
 And in the year, the autumn leaf—
     They only may return.”
 
 “’Tis true, tis true, O Wind,” I sighed,
     “Tis bitter, too, alack:
 In life what we love most and lose
     Can nevermore come back.”