‘Forget your sorrows, Sir,’ she said,
‘Their ev’ry pang disdain.’”
“I declare I feel blue,” said the Pansy. “Can’t you think of anything more cheerful than grief and sorrow, Rhymo?”
“Yes, indeed,” said the poet-elf. “All the flowers are more cheerful than the Daffodil and Hyacinth, and we’ll not think of them any more.”
“Look at that vain Narcissus,” said the Pansy, “he always makes me angry.”
“I’ll put him into verse too if you’ll be kind enough to listen,” said the poet-elf.
“Yes, indeed,” said the Pansy, who was very good-natured.
“You’re an angel,” said Rhymo, “you are so appreciative.”
“On the arm of a vain Narcissus, next,
Was seen a Violet hanging low,