Her family was very poor,
So she’d sell flowers door-to-door;
Pink peonies within her hand,
Her red wagon behind her

The first house that she came upon,
Was minutes past the break of dawn;
She knocked, and she saw eyes through blinds
But nobody would mind her

The second house looked very nice,
The man within was cold as ice,
He viewed her with a frigid stare
So she just took off running

Aways on up the country road,
Past where the sounding river flowed,
A third house soon came into view:
So, would she get more shunning?

The older lady who lived there
Took pity on the girl, so fair,
And asked her name, as she approached
In tones of utmost kindness

“I’m Sarah,” said the girl with grace,
“We live over past Blackwell’s place.
I’m selling flowers – peonies –
Would you like some of ours?”

“Charmed, I’m sure, to meet you, miss.
I can’t believe the luck in this.
As I was saying yesterday
How much I’ve missed real flowers.”

And so she bought the wagonful,
Told Sarah “These are magical,
And every Monday, if you come,
I’ll buy more from your farm.”

She raced home with the coin as prize
To her poor parents great surprise,
And when they asked her “How?” she said
The third time was
A charm

= = = = =

History of Language