Chapter 20 No.20

No thought of herself was in her head,

As she passed out at the end of the street,

And came to a rose-tree tall and red,

Drooping and faint with the summer heat.

She ran to a brook that was flowing by,

She made of her two hands a nice round cup,

And washed the roots of the rose-tree high,

Till it lifted its languid blossoms up.