'I thought he was splendid,' said pretty, pert Larkspur.
'So dark and so grand, with that gay cloak of gold;
But he tried once to kiss me, the impudent fellow,
And I got offended; I thought him too bold.'

'Oh, fie!' laughed the Almond. 'That does for a story.
Though I hang down my head, yet I see all that goes;
And I saw you reach out, trying hard to detain him,
But he just tapped your cheek and flew by to the Rose.

'He cared nothing for her, he only was flirting
To while away time, as every one knew;
So I turned a cold shoulder to all his advances,
Because I was certain his heart was untrue.'

'The Rose it served right for her folly in trusting
An oily-tongued stranger,' quoth proud Columbine.
'I knew what he was, and thought once I would warn her.
But, of course, the affair was no business of mine.'

'Oh, well,' cried the Peony, shrugging her shoulders,
'I saw all along that the Bee was a flirt;
But the Rose has been always so praised and so petted,
I thought a good lesson would do her no hurt.'

Just then came a sound of a love-song sung sweetly;
I saw my proud Rose lifting up her bowed head;
And the talk of the gossips was hushed in a moment,
And the whole garden listened to hear what was said.