There was a little water sprite, her name was Lurlaline;

Amid the water lilies white sometimes she might be seen.

She was a fairy child, Lurline, could sit secure and cool,

Upon those lily leaves so green you see in some lone pool.

There would she sit the summer day, singing a song so bright;

You never heard the song, you say, and don't believe it quite?

But that perhaps is just because when you quite near her stood,

You did not notice where she was, or listen as you should.

It happened in the month of June, the happy summer time.

She always sang a lovelier tune and wove a lovelier rhyme,

And you, too, like to Lurlaline, a lovelier song would sing,

If only you knew what they mean, the flowers and ev'ry thing.

If you were like a water sprite—the water sprites know well

The wondrous things of day and night, and all they have to tell;

They know and love the creatures wild, and all the flowers that grow;

They live with them and love them well, God's hidden pets they know.

And now if you want more to know what Amodine saw there,

You first must love all things below, in water, earth, and air;

You first must love all things that move among the trees and flowers,

And then you shall have more to love in shining fairy bowers.