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]