But it never rains, you know, but it pours,
And the path that I had to go—I went!
Playing with fancies, in fanciful play,
'If I want a rose,' I demurely said,
'I must look for an omen to point the way,
And I must look for it over my head.'
So I found a star that shone in the sky,
And mark'd how it glitter'd down on a tree,
And felt—but I swear that I know not why—
There grow the roses intended for me!