Poem by William Schwenck Gilbert

The Bab Ballads. To Phoebe

“Gentle, modest little flower,
   Sweet epitome of May,
Love me but for half an hour,
   Love me, love me, little fay.”
Sentences so fiercely flaming
   In your tiny shell-like ear,
I should always be exclaiming
   If I loved you, Phœbe dear.

“Smiles that thrill from any distance
   Shed upon me while I sing!
Please ecstaticize existence,
   Love me, oh, thou fairy thing!”
Words like these, outpouring sadly
   You’d perpetually hear,
If I loved you fondly, madly;—
   But I do not, Phœbe dear.

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