ROSE, HUNDRED-LEAVED. .. . You’re not the rose for me. 
“ The rose that all are praising 
Is not the rose for me; 
Too many eyes are gazing 
Upon the costly tree: 
But there’s a rose in yonder glen 
That shuns the gaze of other men, 
For me its blossom raising! 
Oh! that’s the rose for me! 
“The gem a king might covet 
Is not the gem for me; 
From darkness who would move it, 
Save that the world might see? 
But I’ve a gem that shuns display, 
And next my heart worn every day, 
So dearly do I love it! 
Oh! that’s the gem for me! 
“Gay birds, in cages pining, 
Are not the birds for me; 
Their plumes, so brightly shining, 
I do not care to see! 
But I’ve a bird, that gaily sings,— 
Though free to rove, she folds her wings, 
For me her flight resigning! 
Oh! that’s the bird for me!” 
I own her fair beyond compare, 
I own her air, perfection; 
But give my bower some timid flower, 
That asks, each hour, protection! 
F. S. 0. 
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