And, in truth, overheard an intelligent talk.
First, a low, distant murmur arrested my ear,
Like the memory of tones which in dreaming we hear;
Then, clear and distinct, though subtile as thought,
Their simple, articulate language I caught.
“Thou fairest of gems,” said the rose, bending down,
“Too sweet for the earth and too chaste for a crown,
I would thou wert taller, that here, in my place,
The world might appreciate thy sweetness and grace.”
“Nay, nay, lovely rose,” the fair lily replied,