Eleanor Farjeon

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.