Only Roses

To a garden full of

Cometh one to gather flowers;

And he wanders through its

Toying with the wanton roses,

Who, uprising from their beds,

Hold on high their shameless

With their pretty lips a-pouting,

Never doubting - never

That for Cytherean

He would gather aught but roses.

In a nest of weeds and nettles,

Lay a violet, half hidden;

Hoping that his glance

Yet might fall upon her petals.

Though she lived alone, apart,

Hope lay nestling at her heart,

But, alas! the cruel

Set her little heart a-breaking,

For he gathered for his

Only roses - only roses!