I met a little maid one day, AU in tlie bright May weather ; She danced, and brushed the dew away As lightly as a ícather. __ yr'r'W She had a bailad in her hand That she had just been reading, But was too young to understand : - That ditty of a distaut land, "The flower oL love lies bleeding." ■ She tripped acroís the meadow grass, To where a brook was flowing, Across the brook like wind did pass, - Wherever flowers were growing Like some bewildcred chiid she flew, Whom fairies were misleading : "Whose butterfly," I said, "are you? And what sweet thing do you pursue ? " "The flower of love lies bleeding ! " 'Tve i'ound the wild rose in the hedge, I've found the tiger-lily, - Tlio blue flag by the water's edge,- The dancing daffodilly, - King-cups and pansies, - evcry flower Except the one I'm needing ; - Perhaps it grows in some dark bower, And opens at i later hour, - This flower of love lies bleeding." " I vvould n't look for it," I said, " For you can do without it : There's no such flower." She shook ker head ; " But I have read about it ! " I talked to lier of bee and bird, But she was all unheeding ; Her tender heart was straugely stirred, She harped on that unhappy word, - "The flower of love lies bieeding ! " " My child," I sighed and dropped a tcar, " I would no longer mind it ; You'll tind it some day, never fear, Por all of us must fínd it ! I found it many a year ago, With one of gentle breeding ; You and the little lad you know, - I spe why you are weeping so, - Yoto' flower of love lies bleeding ! ,' - Scribner's for March.