In a garden of delight,
Where sweet Nature's wand discloses
Wondrous vistas to the sight,
Once I met a rose-bush, dight
In a wealth of roses.

Like a statue stood I there
Gazing with enraptured eye
At that maze of roses rare:
'For my bosom the most fair
I will pluck,' thought I.

Anxiously I searched, and long
Lingered o'er each beauty; still
Not a bud or flower among
All that dazzling, tempting throng,
Fixed my wavering will.

One, with the bewitching guile
Of crimson garb it wore,
Caught my fancy for a while;
But I marked an insect vile
Gnawing at its core!

One, its languid graces, pale,
Flaunted with a gentle swing;
But alas! Its petals frail
Showed the sad, unsightly trail
Of some slimy thing!

One, adorned with crown of dew,
Queen-like, o'er its sisters bent;
But I found, when near I drew,
That it had, tho' rich in hue,
All its fragrance spent!

One - a blossom - made me start;
'Twas, indeed, a beauteous gem!
But I could not have the heart
Such a tender bud to part
From its parent stem.

One, at last, I then beheld,
Radiant, pure, divine, my own!
But as forth my hand I held,
'Twas with treach'rous thorn repell'd
By the lovely one!

Thus, submitting to the power
Of stern destiny, unblest,
Pensively I left the bower,
With no sweet, love-beaming flower
Smiling on my breast!