The Flowery Alchemist

   Hist, oh hist!
My pretty pale young violet,
   Thy moony cheek uncover;
Lift that hood of fallen sky,
   And my lips once more I’ll wet
Against the dew-ball of thine eye.
            Hist, oh hist!

So a leafy whisper said
Underneath a sweet-briar shade.
   Guess the lady-blossom’s lover!
‘Twas the flowery Alchymist,
   A stinging, gay, intriguing fellow,
   The wildest bee in black and yellow.

   Hist, oh hist!
My pretty pale young violet!
   Glowworm’s lightning blind me
When I leave my bud’s embrace,
   When I traitorously forget
Thy cerulean baby’s grace.
            Hist, oh hist!

The very next night he told the tale
To a little lily of the vale,
   And the poor young violet died of shame.
Oh! fie, thou flowery Alchymist,
   Thou stinging, gay, intriguing fellow,
   Thou wildest bee in black and yellow!

[Gosse, 1890]