Sweet flower, you fondly strive to hide 
Your lovely form from public view, 
While the gay blossom’s eastern pride 
Appears in every varied hue. 
So will a cultured feeling mind, 
Oft trembling shrink from worldly gaze; 
Whilst flippant wit, at ease reclined, 
Spreads all around its transient rays. 
Yet do I love that modest flower, 
Which blossoms in the humble shade, 
And asks not for the sun’s bright power, 
By which this splendid plant’s arrayed. 
