214 THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 
How blushing !” her friend, sneering, cries, 
The old Daffodil whispered last night, 
And you know on those subjects she’s wise, 
That this innocent 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. 
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. 
((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. 
