202 TO A ROSE. 



Thou flower of heavenly seed ! 



Emphatical delight ! 

 Thou, in whose leaves we read 



The soul of crimson light ! 

 That married art, indeed, 



And vow'd to Summer bright ; 

 And didst of Spring proceed ; 



What tongue can paint thee right ? 



Ere thou art born on earth, 



The shepherds sing thy praise ; 

 The cities waken mirth, 



In hope of flowery days : 

 Thou art the chiefest birth, 



That swelling Nature pays, 

 To ransom Winter's dearth, 



And Spring's unkind delays. 



The pink and violet meet, 

 The jasmine dwells in thee, 



The honey-suckle sweet, 

 The jacinth budding free ; 



