THE ROSE2
AY, pluck a jonquil when the May's a-wing! Or please you with a rose upon the breast, A sweeter violet chosen from the rest, To match your mood with blue caprice of spring—Leave windy vines a tendril less to swing. Why, what's a flower? A day's delight at best, A perfume loved, a faded petal pressed, A whimsey for an hour's remembering.
But wondrous careful must he draw the rose From jealous earth, who seeks to set anew Deep root, young leafage, with a gardener's art—To plant her queen of all his garden dose, And make his varying fancy wind and dew, Cloud, rain, and sunshine for one woman's heart.
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