by James Whitcomb Riley
It's a bunch of baby-roses in a vase of filigree,
And hovering above them-just as cute as he can be-
Is a fairy Cupid tangled in a scarf of poetry.
And the prankish little fellow looks so knowing in his glee,
With his golden bow and arrow, aiming most unerringly
At a pair of hearts so labeled that I may read and see
That one is meant for "One Who Loves," and one is meant for me.
But I know that lad who sent it! It's as plain as A-B-C!-
For the roses they are blushing, and the vase stands awkwardly,
And the little god above it-though as cute as he can be-
Can not breathe the lightest whisper of his burning love
for me.