To a garden full of posies br Cometh one to gather flowers; br And he wanders through its bowers br Toying with the wanton roses, br Who, uprising from their beds, br Hold on high their shameless heads br With their pretty lips a-pouting, br Never doubting - never doubting br That for Cytherean posies br He would gather aught but roses. br br In a nest of weeds and nettles, br Lay a violet, half hidden; br Hoping that his glance unbidden br Yet might fall upon her petals.