I will not have the mad Clytie, 
Whose head is turned by the sun; 
The tulip is a courtly quean, 
Whom, therefore, I will shun: 
The cowslip is a country wench, 
The violet is a nun:— 
But I will woo the dainty rose, 
The queen of every one. 
The pea is but a wanton witch, 
In too much haste to wed, 
‘ And clasps her rings on every 
. hand: . 
The wolfsbane I should dread; 
Nor will I dreary rosemary, 
That always mourns the dead;— 
But I will woo the dainty rose, 
With her cheeks of tender red. 
The lily is all in white, like a saint, 
And so is no mate for me; 
And the daisy’s cheek is tipped with a blush, | 
She is of such low degree: 
Jasmine is sweet and has many lovers, 
And the broom is betrothed to the bee;— 
But I will plight with the dainty rose, 
For fairest of all is she. 
Tuomas Hoop. 
