Smilia

Sweet Smilia-flowers did Smilia pull, Her sleevelets and her bosom full; By the cool stream she gather’d them, And twined her many a diadem— A diadem of flowery-wreaths;— One round her brows its fragrance breathes; One to her bosom-friend she throws; The other where the streamlet flows She flings, and says in gentlest tone— “Swim on, thou odorous wreath! swim on, Swim to my Juris’ home, and there O whisper in his mother’s ear: ‘Say, wilt thou not thy Juris wed?— Then give him not a widow’s bed; But some sweet maiden, young and fair.’”