Joseph Skipsey (1832–1903)

THE VIOLET invited my kiss,—

I kiss’d it and call’d it my bride:

‘Was ever one slighted like this?’

Sigh’d the Rose as it stood by my side.

My heart ever open to grief,

To comfort the fair one I turn’d:

‘Of fickle ones thou art the chief!’

Frown’d the Violet and pouted and mourn’d.

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!