To a garden full of posies
cometh one
to gather flowers
And he wanders
through its powers
toying with the
wanton roses
the wanton roses
Who uprising
from their beds
held on high
their shameless heads
With their pretty lips
a-pouting
With their pretty lips
a-pouting
Never doubting
Never doubting
that for Cyntherean
posies, he would gather
aught but roses!
In a nest of weeds
and nettles
lay a violet, half hidden
Hoping that his glance
unbidden yet
might fall upon her petals
upon her petals
Though she lived
alone apart
hope lay nestling
at her heart
But alas the
cruel awaking
But alas the
cruel awaking
Set her little heart
a-breaking
for he gathered
for his posies
Only roses
Only roses!