 | [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends |  |
39
THE BOUQUET.
“I love her, Fairy Rose,” I said,
“But, darling, whisper not:”
The rose within her bosom laid,
Blushing, my blushing thought.
“But, darling, whisper not:”
The rose within her bosom laid,
Blushing, my blushing thought.
“I love her,” then I whispered deep
In Violet's heavenly heart:
In her sweet eyes a child asleep
The secret dreamed apart.
In Violet's heavenly heart:
In her sweet eyes a child asleep
The secret dreamed apart.
“I love her, gentle Lily, bright
As her pure soul's sweet springs:”
The Angel of the flowers, white,
Around it drew her wings.
As her pure soul's sweet springs:”
The Angel of the flowers, white,
Around it drew her wings.
“I love her,” to the other flowers
I whispered—every one:
“We must not tell this Queen of ours
The secret we have won.”
I whispered—every one:
“We must not tell this Queen of ours
The secret we have won.”
They came to her: they all forgot
Their fairy promise true.
Ah, flowers can have no secret thought:
Their Queen their secret knew!
Their fairy promise true.
Ah, flowers can have no secret thought:
Their Queen their secret knew!
40
My love the Rose had overflushed;
Lisped Violet tenderest things;
The Angel of the flowers blushed
Till Love stole from her wings.
Lisped Violet tenderest things;
The Angel of the flowers blushed
Till Love stole from her wings.
| [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends | |