I WHISPERED to the bobolink: br 'Sweet singer of the field, br Teach me a song to reach a heart br In maiden armor steeled.' br br 'If there be such a song,' sang he, br 'No bird can tell its mystery.' br br I bent above the sweetest rose, br A deeper sweet to stir-- br 'O Rose,' I begged, 'what charm will wake br The deep, sweet heart of her?' br br 'Alas, poor lover,' sighed the rose, br 'The charm you seek no flower knows.