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She comes with fairy footsteps;
  Softly their echoes fall;
And her shadow plays, like a summer shade,
  Across the garden wall.
The golden light is dancing bright
  'Mid the mazes of her hair,
And her fair young locks are waving free
  To the wooing of the air.

Like a sportive fawn she boundeth
  So gleefully along;
As a wild young bird she carolleth
  The burden of a song.
The summer birds are clustering thick
  Around her dancing feet,
And on her cheek the clustering breeze
  Is breaking soft and sweet.
 
The very sunbeams seem to linger
  Above that holy head,
And the wild flowers at her coming,
  Their richest fragrance shed.
And O, how lovely light and fragrance
  Mingle in the life within!
O, how fondly do they nestle
  Round the soul that knows no sin!
 
She comes, the spirit of our childhood,-
  A thing of mortal birth,
Yet beareth still a breath of heaven,
  To redeem her from the earth.
She comes in bright-robed innocence,
  Unsoiled by blot or blight,
And passeth by our wayward path
  A gleam of angel light.

O, blessed things are children!
  The gifts of heavenly love;
They stand betwixt our heavy hearts
  And better things above.
They link us with the spirit world
  By purity and truth,
And keep our hearts still fresh and young
  With the presence of their youth.

by unknown author
"It was different when we were kids. In second grade, a teacher came in and gave us all a lecture about not smoking, and then they sent us over to arts and crafts to make ash-trays for Mother's Day."
--Paul Clay
Elizabeth the First suffered from anthophobia (a fear of roses).

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