Classic Poem

Passing the flower-stalls there did I perceive
A boy intent upon a wreath to weave;
Such chance I let not slip, but by him stayed,
And whispering soft I to him offer made,
" For how much will you sell to me your crown?"
Redder than rose he blushed, and looking down,
In sweet affright, he made me answer low,
" Before my Father see, I pray you go."
As pretext garlands from the boy I bought,
Then, leaving him, my house I lonely sought;
Where round the gods did I the garlands twine
With fervent prayers the boy might soon be mine.