TO 
Fair one! take this Rose, and wreath it 
In thy braided hair : 
A brighter bloom will rest beneath it, 
Take this Rose my fair ! 
The flower which late was seen to glow, 
So lovely on that snowy brow, 
Lov’d thy lip, and lightly shed 
A dewy leaf of rosy red. 
To blush for ever there. 
Take this Lily love, and twine it 
With thy waving hair: 
’Twill gem the ringlets, why decline it ? 
Take the flower my fair! 
And yet its leaflets, pure and pale 
In beauty on thy brow will fail: 
That brow attracts all eyes to thee. 
And none will choose, or chance to see 
The Lily fading there. 
A. A. P. 
