In the Morning by Willis Boyd Allen - HTML preview
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The maiden left a timid kiss
Upon the mossy stone;
Her lover true, the maiden knew,
Would seek and find his own.
The lover never came again,
Nor guessed the woe he wrought;
Day after day neglected lay
The maiden’s kiss, unsought.
At length, upspringing from the moss
Through kindly sun and shower,
Its petals fair unfolded there
This gentle, snow-white flower.