When I was little and good <br />I walked in the dappled wood <br />Where light white windflowers grew, <br />And hyacinths heavy and blue. <br /> <br />The windflowers fluttered light, <br />Like butterflies white and bright; <br />The bluebells tremulous stood <br />Deep in the heart of the wood. <br /> <br />I gathered the white and the blue, <br />The wild wet woodland through, <br />With hands too silly and small <br />To clasp and carry them all. <br /> <br />Some dropped from my hands and died <br />By the home-road's grassy side; <br />And those that my fond hands pressed <br />Died even before the rest.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/windflowers/
