THE LOVELY CHILD
Lilies are both pure and fair,Growing ’midst the roses there—Roses, too, both red and pink,Are quite beautiful, I think.But of all bright blossoms—best—Purest—fairest—loveliest,—Could there be a sweeter thingThan a primrose, blossoming?
Lilies are both pure and fair,Growing ’midst the roses there—Roses, too, both red and pink,Are quite beautiful, I think.But of all bright blossoms—best—Purest—fairest—loveliest,—Could there be a sweeter thingThan a primrose, blossoming?
Lilies are both pure and fair,Growing ’midst the roses there—Roses, too, both red and pink,Are quite beautiful, I think.
Lilies are both pure and fair,
Growing ’midst the roses there—
Roses, too, both red and pink,
Are quite beautiful, I think.
But of all bright blossoms—best—Purest—fairest—loveliest,—Could there be a sweeter thingThan a primrose, blossoming?
But of all bright blossoms—best—
Purest—fairest—loveliest,—
Could there be a sweeter thing
Than a primrose, blossoming?