Forget-Me-Not

In a quaint, old southern garden, on a sunny kind of day,
There bloomed a tiny blossom, or so the folks do say;
Its little heart was golden; its petals fairest blue;
It took them back along the trail to other days and you.
And just because t’was memory within that wayside plot,
They named that tiny little bloom, a blue forget-me-not.

– 1929

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