“Oh, me! for a yellow cowslip,
A pale little primrose dear!
Won’t some kind angel remember,
And pluck one and bring it here?”
They brought her a bunch of cowslips;
She took them with fingers weak,
And kissed them, and stroked them, and loved them,
And laid them against her cheek.
“It was kind of the angels to send them;
And now I’m too tired to pray,