Like a champion of beauty
She tripped over the bursting pods,
And wafted into my garden
On the lukewarm breath of the gods.

In the moonlit garden she hid - 
My eye sought and found her there,
Where she was whispering a word
To the one dandelion fair.

Oh! How I wish I had my ears 
Made of the petals of that flower,
That I may also have the luck 
To get wet in that whispered shower.

Oh! How desperate I am to
Pierce my ears with the whispered blade.
Tomorrow I will turn deaf
As the petals will start to fade.

Alas! My ears are flesh and blood
And will for long hear the world's din, 
But never, never a word from 
A nymph will be whispered in.