The flash and whirr of a jeweled thing,
A humming-bird was near.
We were sauntering down the garden path,
Repeating kind good-byes,
When suddenly now were our footsteps stayed,
New beauties met our eyes.
“Will you have some pansies?” the hostess asks,
“O, thank you, on!” we say;
But the matron is culling the purple blooms,
We let her have her way.