Explore "Thisbe" by Helen Gray Cone on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
FLOWER FANCIES
The garden within was shaded, / And guarded about from sight; / The fragrance flowed to the south wind, / The fountain leaped to the light.
And the street without was narrow, / And dusty, and hot, and mean; / But the bush that bore white roses, / She leaned to the fence between:
And softly she sought a crevice / In that barrier blank and tall, / And shyly she thrust out through it / Her loveliest bud of all.
And tender to touch, and gracious, / And pure as the moon's pure shine, / The full rose paled and was perfect, -- / For whose eyes, for whose lips, but mine!