204 TO A ROSE. 
And what the Spring to me, 
Prophetic, may appear. 
Is heaven, O man, to thee. 
An ever blooming year: 
Where thou shalt Angels see. 
And their sweet harpings hear ; 
If thou God’s servant be. 
And keep his counsel dear.” 
O preacher of the mead. 
Thy sermon is divine ; 
And doth from God proceed. 
Who cause thee thus to shine; 
0 Rose, in crimson weed: 
And may I make it mine ; 
And thus be learn’d indeed. 
When sun and stars decline! 
