Purple and white the pansies shone.Tall stocks that stained the garden walkWith crimson, heard our amorous talkAnd blushed to know that she was won.
The golden mirth of sunflowers eyedHer bosom and mauve heliotropeShed balmy breaths of scent in hopeOf her virginity untied.
So when the moon rose in the southAnd trailed about the shadowy vineI felt her breasts pant under mineAnd her breath sobbing in my mouth.
