Classic Poem

The Rose of Love my Henry sends,
Seems to my heart bright hues to wear,
And balmy fragrance it dispends
That dissipates each brooding care.

How can it sweetest odours shed —
How can it bloom so fresh and fair —
How can its leaflets gaily spread,
While we are still a severed pair? —

Fold up thy leaves, thou bonny Rose,
And hide thee from the rifling air!
Those precious odours fast inclose,
Nor let rough blasts thy vesture tear!

Planted in Hymen's happy soil,
And tended by a blessed pair,
Those beauties thou shalt soon uncoil,
And scatter all thy fragrance there!