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Edith Nesbit - Indiscretion
Work rating: Low

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?
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