Marguerite
C. Converse
The merry bells shall ring,
Marguerite;
The little birds shall sing,
Marguerite
You smile, but you shall wear
Orange blossoms in your hair,
Marguerite!
Ah me! the bells have rung
Marguerite;
The little birds have sung,
Marguerite
But cypress leaf and rue
Make a sorry wreath for you,
Marguerite!