Across the ancient woodland floor,
Sea of green leaves and white blooms steeped in folklore.
Fairies dance to the tunes of those May bells,
But, enjoy too much and they turn to death knells.
Mary’s tears signal a return of happiness,
In the wedding bouquet of a beloved princess.
Convallaria to some, Muguet to the French over in Calais,
To me; my mother’s favourite: Lily of the Valley.