Twelve daughters of the Trumpet-vine
Spread wide their scarlet silks to-day.
Sir Summer Breeze, my gossip fine,
Can you the reason say?
“Oh listen while I whisper low!
The Honeysuckle told the Bee,
(Her girls wore out their gowns, you know!)
And Master Buzz told me.
“’Twas done for Some One’s sake, I ween,
Who by and by will hither float,
All gay in gold and emerald green,
With rubies round his throat!
“You doubt me? Hearken! There he went,
The flashing Prince of Idle Hours,
Whose silvery sing-song compliment
Delights the flattered flowers!”