A Maiden - By Sara Teasdale

Oh if I were the velvet rose
 Upon the red rose vine,
I'd climb to touch his window
 And make his casement fine.

And if I were the little bird
 That twitters on the tree,
All day I'd sing my love for him
 Till he should harken me.

But since I am a maiden
 I go with downcast eyes,
And he will never hear the songs
 That he has turned to sighs.

And since I am a maiden
 My love will never know
That I could kiss him with a mouth
 More red than roses blow.