(_For "Love in the Arbour."_)
A DARWINITE tells us some flowers can _see_!
This adds a new terror to botany.
For lovers, and ladies, will surely agree
Blossoms' tongues could tell tales--had they got any:
The _Fat Boy_ in _Pickwick_, an Arbour-eaves-dropper,
To amorous "spoons" was a terror;
But flowers with eyes for what Aunts call "improper"?
That is a look-out, and no error!
'Tis climbers and parasites chiefly, we're told,
Who're gifted with optical powers.
Well nymphs will be roguish, and swains will be bold,
Notwithstanding inquisitive--flowers!
The Virgin, no doubt, will invite the sly kiss,
Despite the Virginian Creeper;
And _Corydon_ clasp in the moonlight sweet miss
Though Convolvulus play _Tom the Peeper_.
But should science discover that blossoms can _speak_,
And tell tales about bower-hid passion;
I'll wager it wouldn't be more than a week,
Before flowers would go out of fashion!
One prospect at least this new doctrine discovers:
Did eyes and glib tongues fill our bowers,
The man whom a maiden deems "flower of lovers,"
Would no more be lover of flowers
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