Explore "Windflowers" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WHEN I was little and good / I walked in the dappled wood / Where light white windflowers grew, / And hyacinths heavy and blue.
The windflowers fluttered light, / Like butterflies white and bright; / The bluebells tremulous stood / Deep in the heart of the wood.
I gathered the white and the blue, / The wild wet woodland through, / With hands too silly and small / To clasp and carry them all.
Some dropped from my hands and died / By the home-road's grassy side; / And those that my fond hands pressed / Died even before the rest.