Wooing and whispering frank and free;
But she folded her petals; quoth she, “I am best
On a stalk of my own at the top of the tree.”
‘And they folded their petals, the rose-buds too,
And closer they clung as the wind swept by,
For they’d vow’d a vow, that sisterhood true,
Together to fade, and together to die.
‘“Never a wind shall a rose-bud wrest,
Never a gallant shall wile us away,
To wear in his bonnet, to wear on his breast,