Mrs. Fleetwood Habergham

I sowed the seeds of love To blossom all the spring, In April, May, or else in June, When the small birds do sing: A gardener standing by, I desired him to choose for me; He picked out the lily, the violet, and pink, But I refused all three. The lily I refused, Because it faded so soon; The violet and pink I overlooked, Resolved was to tarry till June: In June the red roses bud, Oh, that is a lover for me; But I have often aimed at the red rose-bud, And I have gained the willow tree. The gardener standing by, He prayed me to have a care, For the thorn that grew on the red rose-bush, A venomous thorn they were: A venomous thorn indeed, For still I feel the smart; And every time I did it touch, It pricked my tender heart. Away you fading flowers, No more I will you touch, That all the world may plainly see I loved one flower too much.