Oh little flowers! in boyhood too
I held sweet dalliance with you,
And in my earliest passion’s hour,
Could only call my love a flower.
Oh then the starry jessamine,
I pull’d the garden walks within,
And romp’d around, from plot to plot,
Reaping, where I had strewed not,
All hues and odours; wild with glee,
So boldly mischievous to be;