Entrée DM 123

To a garden full of posies
   Cometh one to gather flowers;
   And he wanders through its bowers
Toying with the wanton roses,
   Who, uprising from their beds,
   Hold on high their shameless heads
With their pretty lips a-pouting,
Never doubting—never doubting
   That for Cytherean posies
   He would gather aught but roses.

In a nest of weeds and nettles,
   Lay a violet, half hidden;
   Hoping that his glance unbidden
Yet might fall upon her petals.
   Though she lived alone, apart,
   Hope lay nestling at her heart,
But, alas! the cruel awaking
Set her little heart a-breaking,
   For he gathered for his posies
   Only roses—only roses!