But I was a giddy girl, 
So I toss’d it soon away, 
And gathered the dandelion buds, 
And the wild grape’s gadding spray. 
He mark’d their blended hues, 
With a sad and reproachful eye, 
For one was the symbol of thoughtless mirth, 
And one of coquetry 
Yet he would not be baffled thus, 
So he brought for my crystal vase, 
The rose-geranium’s tender bloom, 
And the blushing hawthorn’s grace. 
And a brilliant and fresh bouquet, 
Of the moss-rose buds he bore—- 
Whose eloquent brows with dew-drops pearl’d, 
Were rich in the heart’s deep lore. 
I could not refuse the gift, 
Though I knew the spell it wove, 
But I gave him back a snow-white bud, 
“Too young, too young to love.” 
