And little Mabel’s song,
By a roving zephyr wafted,
She heard as she rode along.
“Ah, child!” she sighed as she listened,
A shadow upon her brow—
“With the birds, and the bees, and the blossoms
How happy and gay art thou!”
Standing knee-deep in clover,
Mabel looked up and saw
The glitter and royal splendor,