ONCE, deep in thought, I, passing 'neath some trees,
Beheld a troop of maidens gathering flowers;
One cried: 'Ah look'; another: 'Nay, see these,'
'What hast thou there? ' 'I doubt not lily-showers.'
'And here, I trow, are violets blue.'
A rose — woe's me, a thorn hath pricked my finger through! '
'Alas, alas! '
What's that in the grass? '
'A cricket.' 'Make haste,