Indiscretion

RED tulip-buds last night caressed

The sacred ivory of her breast.

She met me, eager to divine

What gold-heart bud of hope was mine.

Nor eyes nor lips were strong to part

The close-curled petals round my heart;

The joy I knew no monarch knows,

Yet not a petal would unclose.

But, ah!--the tulip-buds, unwise,

Warmed with the sunshine of her eyes,

And by her soft breath glorified

Went mad with love and opened wide.

She saw their hearts, all golden-gay,

Laughed, frowned, and flung the flowers away.

Poor flowers, in Heaven as you were,

Why did you show your hearts to her?