Such yellow buttercups she saw, such violets white and blue,
Such primroses, such sweet-briars, and honey-suckles too;
That, oh! she thought within herself, I wish Mamma were here:
I’m sure she’d let me stop awhile; there can be nought to fear:
I must just pick these pretty flowers which smell so fresh and sweet:
’Twill be so nice to take her home a nose-gay for a treat.
She told me not to loiter here, nor from the footpath stray;
And so I wont stop very long, nor wander far away.
And so she stopp’d, nor thought of harm, because she knew not what:
Enough it should have been to know—Mamma had told her not.