How many flowers are gently met
Within my garden fair!
The daffodil, the violet,
And lilies dear are there.

They fade and pass, the fleeting flowers,
And brief their little light;
They hold not Love's diviner hours,
Nor Sorrow's human night.

Tho' one by one their blooms depart,
No change thy lover knows,
For mine the fragrance of thy heart,
O thou my perfect rose!