108 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The heart and fancy, as pellucid wave 
Of fount or river 
Flings back more bright what bright doth oil it fall 
And its own radiance lends where else were none 
at all. 
SONNET. 
BY SPENSER. 
Sweet is the Rose, but growes upon a brere; 
Sweet is the Juniper, but sharpe his bough; 
Sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere; 
Sweet is the Firbloom, but his branches rough, 
Sweet is the Cypress, but his rind is tough, 
Sweet is the Nut, but bitter is his pill; 
Sweet is the Broome-flowere, but yet sowre 
enough; 
And sweet is Moly, but his roote is ill. 
So every sweet with sowre is tempred still, 
That maketh it be coveted the more: 
For easie things that may be got at will, 
Most sorts of men ioe set but little store. 
Why then should I account of little paine, 
That endless pleasure shall unto me gaine ? 
