It Tossed Its Head At The Wooing Breeze; And The Sun, Like A Bashful Swain, Beamed On It Through The Waving Frees With A Passion All In Vain, - For My Rose Laughed In A Crimson Glee, And Hid In The Leaves In Wait For Me. The Honey-Bee Came There To Sing His Love Through The Languid Hours, And Vaunt Of His Hives, As A Proud Old King Might Boast Of His Palace-Towers: But My Rose Bowed In A Mockery, And Hid In The Leaves In Wait For Me. The Humming-Bird, Like A Courtier Gay, Dipped Down With A Dalliant Song, And Twanged His Wings Through The Roundelay Of Love The Whole Day Long: Yet My Rose Turned From His Minstrelsy And Hid In The Leaves In Wait For Me. The Firefly Came In The Twilight Dim My Red, Red Rose To Woo - Till Quenched Was The Flame Of Love In Him, And The Light Of His Lantern Too, As My Rose Wept With Dew-Drops Three And Hid In The Leaves In Wait For Me. And I Said: I Will Cult My Own Sweet Rose - Some Day I Will Claim As Mine The Priceless Worth Of The Flower That Knows No Change, But A Bloom Divine - The Bloom Of A Fadeless Constancy That Hides In The Leaves In Wait For Me! But Time Passed By In A Strange Disguise, And I Marked It Not, But Lay In A Lazy Dream, With Drowsy Eyes, Till The Summer Slipped Away, And A Chill Wind Sang In A Minor Key: "Where Is The Rose That Waits For Thee?" * * * * * I Dream To-Day, O'Er A Purple Stain Of Bloom On A Withered Stalk, Pelted Down By The Autumn Rain In The Dust Of The Garden-Walk, That An Angel-Rose In The World To Be Will Hide In The Leaves In Wait For Me.