Eleanor Farjeon (Элинор Фарджон)
Bronwen of the Flowers
Bronwen gathered wild-flowers Up-and-down the lane; Her gathering touch upon them Sweeter was than rain. Now a blossom overblown, Now a bud begun-- Her eye that lightened on them Was quicker than the sun. One by one she named them, Oh, she did express In her pretty namings All their prettiness: Some were fit for virgins, Some for merry dames, And the love with which she named them Was lovelier than their names.
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