SWEET Smilia-flowers did Smilia pull,
Her sleevelets and her bosom full;
By the cool stream she gather’d them,
And twined her many a diadem—
A diadem of flowery-wreaths;—
One round her brows its fragrance breathes;
One to her bosom-friend she throws;
The other where the streamlet flows
She flings, and says in gentlest tone—
“Swim on, thou odorous wreath! swim on,
Swim to my Juris’ home, and there
O whisper in his mother’s ear:
‘Say, wilt thou not thy Juris wed?—
Then give him not a widow’s bed;
But some sweet maiden, young and fair.’”