T H E   N O S E G A Y.

                     (KYTICE.)

   From the tall princely forests the light wind doth blow,
   The maiden belov'd to the streamlet doth go.
   She scoops with her bucket the waves as they fleet,
   A nosegay there floats on the wave to her feet.
   The maiden she reaches the nosegay to hold,
   That roses and violets sweets doth enfold,
   But she falls, ah! she falls in the water so cold.
   O did I, fair nosegay, o did I but know,
   Who, who was the planter that made thee to grow,
   A bright golden ring I'd upon him bestow.
   O knew I, thou nosegay, so sweet and so fair,
   Who chose thee, and pluck'd thee, and bound thee with care,
   I'd give him, I'd give him the pin from my hair.
   O did I, fair nosegay, o did I but know,
   Who gave thee to float on that waters that flow,
   The wreath from my head I'd upon him bestow.