‘But wasn’t she proud when he showed her attention?
And she let him caress her,’ said sly Mignonette.
‘And I used to see it and blush for her folly.
The silly thing thinks he will come to her yet.’
‘I thought he was splendid,’ said pretty, pert Larkspur.
‘So dark and so grand, with that gay cloak of gold;
But he tried once to kiss me, the impudent fellow,
And I got offended; I thought him too bold.’
‘Oh, fie!’ laughed the Almond. ‘That does for a story.
Though I hang down my head, yet I see all that goes;
And I saw you reach out, trying hard to detain him,
But he just tapped your cheek and flew by to the Rose.
‘He cared nothing for her, he only was flirting
To while away time, as every one knew;
So I turned a cold shoulder to all his advances,
Because I was certain his heart was untrue.’
‘The Rose it served right for her folly in trusting
An oily-tongued stranger,’ quoth proud Columbine.
‘I knew what he was, and thought once I would warn her.
But, of course, the affair was no business of mine.’
‘Oh, well,’ cried the Peony, shrugging her shoulders,
‘I saw all along that the Bee was a flirt;
But the Rose has been always so praised and so petted,
I thought a good lesson would do her no hurt.’
Just then came a sound of a love-song sung sweetly;
I saw my proud Rose lifting up her bowed head;
And the talk of the gossips was hushed in a moment,
And the whole garden listened to hear what was said.
And the dark, handsome Bee, with his cloak o’er his shoulder,
Came swift through the sunlight and kissed the sad Rose,
And whispered: ‘My darling, I’ve roved the world over,
And you are the loveliest blossom that grows.’
TOGETHER
We two in the fever and fervour and glow
Of life’s high tide have rejoiced together;
We have looked out over the glittering snow,
And known we were dwelling in Summer weather,
For the seasons are made by the heart I hold,
And not by outdoor heat or cold.