by Mary Leslie Newton
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, has washed her lace
(She chose a summer's day)
And hung it in a grassy place
To whiten if it may.
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, has left it there
and slept the dewey night;
Then waked to find the sunshine fair,
And all the meadows white.
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, is dead and gone
(She died a Summer's day)
But left her lace to whiten on
Each weed-entangled way!
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