My heart beat fast at the beautiful phrase;
She had not intended it, I suppose,
But I felt I could love her all my days,
If under the stars I might pluck one rose!

Pleading my cause in so ardent a way,
Almost evoking an answering glow,
Crying, 'You once were as young and as gay'--
Then, she smil'd a little and let me go.

'Twas pleasure enough to be out of doors;
I look'd at the stars and I felt content:
But it never rains, you know, but it pours,
And the path that I _had_ to go--I went!

Playing with fancies, in fanciful play,
'If I want a rose,' I demurely said,
'I must look for an omen to point the way,
And I must look for it over my head.'

So I found a star that shone in the sky,
And mark'd how it glitter'd down on a tree,
And felt--but I swear that I know not why--
There grow the roses intended for me!

And as I approach the shadowy boughs
That are spreading out over earth and air,
A gay little miracle fate allows,
And the star appears to be sparkling there!