Jealousy

The violets their soft, dark lashes part,
  While robins serenade them far and near;
But the anemone, with ebon heart
  And blood-shot eyes, pretends she does not hear.

The violets invite the nightingale
  Whose carols fall in dew upon their bed;
But the hydrangea, as saffron pale,
  Holds high above the wall her nodding head.