The Rose.
Fair Queen of Flowers !1
Whether thy robe be crimson, white, or gold,2
None can with thee compare.3
Fragrant as fair,4
Deep in thine heart a subtle essence lies,5
Covered by silken petals manifold,6
Till, these unfolding to the summer air,7
The sweetness flies8
Forth from the depths in which it lay concealed,9
As love at touch of love doth stand revealed.10