English poem
Flower Song
by Nora Archibald Smith (1859–1934)
(Adapted from Froebel)
Why is the flower’s breath so sweet? Ah, who can tell the reason! Perhaps the angel-children fair, Come in the blossom season, And with their blessed hands they touch Each bud so small, Each posy tall;-- To think so were no treason.
No baby eye, however bright, May see their garments flowing, Among the blooms they softly pass, Rich odors round them strowing, Ah, honey-sweet the flower they touched! Sweet as the breeze That rocks the trees When apple-buds are blowing.