The Violet invited my kiss.
I kiss’d it and called it my bride;
“Was ever one slighted like this?”
Sighed the Rose as it stood by my side.
My heart ever open to grief,
To comfort the fair one I turned;
“Of fickle ones thou art the chief!”
Frown’d the Violet, and pouted and mourned.
Then to end all disputes, I entwined
The love-stricken blossoms in one;
But that instant their beauty declined,
And I wept for the deed I had done!
Other works by Joseph Skipsey...
