And the poppy snored in his chair;
But the pink wasn’t sleepy at all, she said,
Wishing my pleasure to share,
No tulip or pink of them cared for bed,
They knew I expected you there.
Queen pink of the feminine pinks in there,
Come out in the garden to me,
In the velvet basque, silk-lined you wear,
Queen pink and tulip you be:
Bob out little face, running over with hair,