With A Bunch Of Violets

Good Saint Valentine, I pray, While around this town you stray, You will keep your eyes alert For a maid who loves to flirt.

If among the hurrying crowd-- Beauties fair and beauties proud-- You should see one like a queen, Eyes of blue, with golden sheen In her hair that’s flecked with brown, And a grace about her gown, That’s Diana!

Catch her eye As she’s gayly tripping by; Say you know a sorry wight, Slow of speech and slow to write, Who would tell her through these flowers That her eyes are bright as stars In the blue; that her speech Haunts his mem’ry (out of reach Like their perfume faint but fine); That her laugh is like rare wine. As you leave her touch her lips; Say that men are like old ships, Easy towed, but hard to steer; Then just whisper in her ear, “Lovers change, but friends are true Like these violets.” Then, “Adieu.”

This, Saint Valentine, I pray, On the morning of that day When you keep your eyes alert For all maids who love to flirt.

ARCADY, February fourteenth.