  O Mullein, whisper in my ear And tell me how you grow, I was the taller of the two But one short week ago, And now, as I on tiptoe stand, Can scarcely reach you with my hand. You're growing very lovely, too, In your pale-green velvet gown; And golden as a daffodil Are the flowers in your crown. So tall and stately! Is it true That all your neighbors envy you? The Thistle flushed as the maiden spoke, And thrust out every thorn; The Wormwood very bitter grew; And tossed her head in scorn; The Teazle and the Burdock tried To pull the maiden's dress aside. The Mullein kept the secret well, And the maiden never knew That she the only object was Of envy. And 'tis true That when she left and said Good-bye! For sadness they made no reply.
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