From The Birmingham Age-Herald, May 15, 1913. By Samuel Minturn Peck. There was a little woman flower Sweeter far than all The violets and the daffodils That come at Springtime’s call. All the blossoms loved her, Even the happy birds; They piped their little hearts to her Because they had no words. ’Tis spring again. The skies are blue; Blossoms and birds I see But the little flower maiden— Oh tell me where is she! The sorrowing Wind low-answered: “Flower, and bird, and fern, And in the year, the autumn leaf— They only may return.” “’Tis true, tis true, O Wind,” I sighed, “Tis bitter, too, alack: In life what we love most and lose Can nevermore come back.”