I saw a little blossom by the way.
'Twas simple, beautiful, and that was all.
Its scent is borne upon the winds of May,
It blooms in springtime, withers in the fall.
I know a pretty maiden, by the way.
Than she no fairer flower springs from earth
She sings thruout the gladsome summer day.
Her beauty lies in pride of modest worth.
These beauties are alike in certain ways.
He who observes the best best understands.
If left unplucked till past their blooming days,
Both either fade or fall to other's hands.
