
Wh s 
44 POETRY OF 
THE ROSE. 
O! how much more doth beauty beauteous 
seem 
By that sweet ornament which truth doth 
give! 
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem 
For that sweet odor which doth in it live. 
The canker blooms have full as deep a die 
As the perfumed tincture of the YrOSes ; 
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly, 
When Summer’s breath their masked buds 
discloses. 
But for their virtue only is their show, 
They live unwoo’d, and unrespected fade ; 
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so, 
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors 
made ; 
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, 
When that shall fade, my verse distills your 
truth. 
SHAKSPEARE. 
