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hose. 
And thou, most lovely rose, 
Of tint most delicate, 
Fair consort of the morn ; 
Delighted to imbibe 
The genial dew of heaven, 
Rich vegetation’s vermeil-tinctured gem ; 
April’s enchanting herald. 
Thou flower supremely blest. 
And queen of all the flowers, 
Thou formest around my locks 
A garland of such fragrance. 
That up to Heaven itself 
Thy balmy sweets ascend. 
Anduein’s Adam. 
His queen, the garden queen, his Rose, 
Unbent by winds, unchill’d by snows, 
Far from the winters of the west. 
By every breeze and season blest, 
Returns the sweets by nature given 
lit softest incense back to heaven; 
And grateful yields that smiling sky, 
Her fairest hue, and fragrant sigh. 
Lord Bvron. 
Look as the flower which lingeringly doth 
fade, 
The morning’s darling late, the summer’s 
queen; 
