Pansy: Song-Words

IN a crooked angle
 Of a garden bower,
 'Neath a weedy tangle
 Grew a modest flower;
 Unpretending, unoffending,
 Gifted but with fancy,
 Unassuming in his blooming
 Grew that modest pansy.  
   Ah! pansy, pansy,  
  Hope springs anew;  
  But fancy, fancy,  
  Never comes true.   
  Comes a maiden bashful,
 Wandering here and there,
 With her silken sash full
 Of roses rich and rare;
 Slow she takes them, dewless shakes them
 In her shapely fingers,
 While to choose some for her bosom
 Lazily she lingers.  
   Ah! pansy, pansy,  
  Modest in hue;  
  Sweet fancy, fancy,  
  Never comes true.   
 
  With a lover's anguish
 For her glance he sought,
 On her breast to languish
 Was his daring thought;
 If he perished by her cherished,
 Life was worth the leaving;
 But she passes 'midst the grasses,
 And she leaves him grieving!  
   Ah! pansy, pansy,  
  Sorrow for you;  
  But fancy, fancy,  
  Never comes true.