And Helen sat her down upon the grass,
And pluck'd the little daisies white and red,
And toss'd them where the running waters pass,
To watch them racing from the fountain-head,
And whirl'd about where little streams dispread;
And still with merry birds the garden rang,
And, MARRY, MARRY, in their song they said,
Or so do maids interpret that they sang.
This book comes from：m.funovel.com。