Page:Songs of a Savoyard.djvu/57



O 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!