Classic Poem

The Lily whispered to the Rose:
" The Tulip's fearfully stuck up
You'd think, to see the creature's pose,
She were a golden altar-cup
There's method in her boldness, too;
She catches twice her share of Dew. "

The Rose into the Tulip's ear
Murmured: " The Lily is a sight;
Don't you believe she powders , dear,
To make herself so saintly white?
She takes some trouble, it is plain,
Her reputation to sustain. "

Said Tulip to the Lily white:
" About the Rose — what do you think? —
Her colour? Should you say it's quite —
Well, quite a natural shade of pink? "
" Natural! " the Lily cried. " Good Saints!
Why, everybody knows she paints! "