There was a little water sprite, her name was Lurlaline;
Amid the water lilies white sometimes she might be seen.
She was a fairy child, Lurline, could sit secure and cool,
Upon those lily leaves so green you see in some lone pool.
There would she sit the summer day, singing a song so bright;
You never heard the song, you say, and don't believe it quite?
But that perhaps is just because when you quite near her stood,
You did not notice where she was, or listen as you should.
It happened in the month of June, the happy summer time.
She always sang a lovelier tune and wove a lovelier rhyme,