214 THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 



" How blushing !" her friend, sneering, cries, 

 t( The old Daffodil whispered last night, 



And you know on those subjects she's wise, 

 That this inrrocent paints red and white. 



" While her exquisite honeyed perfume 

 For which the bees teaze her to death, 



They have found too, and so I presume, 

 Is fictitious to cover her breath. 



(f Then to see how she flirts with them all, 

 How she aims in a nosegay to shine 



And because she is painted and tall, 

 Conceits herself blooming and fine." 



A Sweet- William, concealed in the shade, 

 Who their kind observations had heard, 



Much loving the bright-bosomed maid, 

 Thought it high time to put in a word. 



(i Fine ladies, your eloquence spare, 



Oh, spare it, in pity to me ! 

 Or my heart is quite lost to the fair, 



Supremely fair, sweet-scented Pea. 



