William Watson (Уильям Уотсон)

Three Flowers

I made a little song about the rose
 And sang it for the rose to hear,
Nor ever marked until the music's close
 A lily that was listening near.

The red red rose flushed redder with delight,
 And like a queen her head she raised.
The white white lily blanched a paler white,
 For anger that she was not praised.

Turning I left the rose unto her pride,
 The lily to her enviousness,
And soon upon the grassy ground espied
 A daisy all companionless.

Doubtless no flattered flower is this, I deemed;
 And not so graciously it grew
As rose or lily: but methought it seemed
 More thankful for the sun and dew.

Dear love, my sweet small flower that grew'st among
 The grass, from all the flowers apart,—
Forgive me that I gave the rose my song,
 Ere thou, the daisy, hadst my heart!

1. Lux Perdita
2. On Exaggerated Deference to Foreign Literary Opinion
3. The Glimpse
4. The Ballad of the “Britain's Pride”
5. Life without Health

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