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My Spring is gone, however, but it has left me that French floweret on my hands, which, in some moods, I would fain be rid of.

“Maybe,” she answered, playing with the tiny pink flowerets at the base of her collar.

Amid the jungles of the East, Where gloomiest forms of sin are rife, Like flowerets in a desert drear, Her treasured ones had sprung to life.

By this time all the tiny yellow flowerets which make up the yellow cushion have bloomed.

"Some flowerets of Eden we still inherit Though the trail of the serpent is over them all."