In the Morning by Willis Boyd Allen - HTML preview

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The maiden left a timid kiss

Upon the mossy stone;

Her lover true, the maiden knew,

Would seek and find his own.

The lover never came again,

Nor guessed the woe he wrought;

Day after day neglected lay

The maiden’s kiss, unsought.

At length, upspringing from the moss

Through kindly sun and shower,

Its petals fair unfolded there

This gentle, snow-white flower.