Helena clasped her hands round her knees, and, lifting up her face to the stars, began to sing in a clear, sweet voice, which, though entirely untrained, had a trill in it like the liquid notes of a bird.
I.
“Wild roses red as dawn
When nymphs awaken,
Frail lilies white and wan
As love forsaken.
With primrose pale and daffodil,
Forget-me-nots from hidden rill,
And blossoms shaken
By wintry breezes thin and chill,