html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Go, mocking flower,
Thou plastic child of art,
Back to thy lady's bower;
Go and ask if thou,
False one, art proven now
An emblem of her heart?
Tell her, that like thee
That heart's of little worth,
However kind it be,
Which any hand with skill
May mould unto its will:
Too pliant from its birth.
Go, cheating blossom,
Scentless as morning dew,
Go ask if in her bosom,
Although love's bud may be
In brightness like to thee,
It owns no fragrance too.
But if fadeless, yet
Still, still her love blooms on;
Tell her—oh, ne'er forget
To tell her, from my heart
Affection will not part
When all life's flowers are gone.