i 74 
Floral Poetry. 
ROSE. 
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 Rosemarye, 
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 loves, 
And the Broom’s betrothed to the Bee;— 
But I will plight with the dainty Rose, 
For fairest of all is she ! 
Hood. 
