Once upon a time she walked upon faces.
From the bosom of the ground she came,
Her light feet came dancing on the moor,
For it was her home.
She was sweet as summer,
Her hair gold as honey doused with sunlight.
Least of fair was she,
No flower felt less as lovely when her face arose.
Her eyes were like rain,
And watered them with her radiance.


Amber gold set upon the face of the little princess,
Yet no noble blood runs through her veins,
But she is heir of the highness valley;
The field of her dreams, her country.
And thus she grows in a garden of florals,
Of white and blue.
And they too sit, tangled in her hair,
Feeling all the more lovely than she.


The bonny lass,
She was a warden of the heavenly,
A magistrate to the honeysuckles she
Preached her faithful words.
She was a minister to the sparrow,
Joining his sweet singing song with harmonies of the saving light.

Her confessional is the rose arbor,
She kneels within the iron curls
And gazes at the budding, blooming blossoms,
And they feel just as faithful as she.


When upon her falls the night,
Fireflies glow close to her face,
To illuminate her freckled smiles.

She was a beauty of nature,
And from the earth was she,
Set only as once a beauty to the garden
Of which she grows.