Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower,
But I could never sell —
If you would like to borrow,
Until the Daffodil
Unties her yellow Bonnet
Beneath the village door,
Until the Bees, from Clover rows
Their Hock, and Sherry, draw,
Why, I will lend until just then,
But not an hour more!
A rhodenderon waved me gaily by on the road to the hills.
The flowers are all lent out and its been lifetimes since they withered.
There is no false pride in honour, Emily knew that so well that she sounds almost chirpy giving away all that she could have!