They may talk of their flowers, and the crimson that blushes,
The Queen of the garden, the rose on its tree ; -
But while I'm possess'd of thy innocent blushes,
I care for none else,- they're the roses for me.

They may talk of their diamond that beams in the mine ;
It sparkling and glowing and brilliant may be ; -
But while thy dear eyes with benevolence shine,
I care for none else, -they're the diamonds for me.

They may talk, if they will, of their Venus resplendent
With beauty and life, as she sprang from the sea ;
They may talk of the cestus, her graceful attendant ; -
But Love is the cestus that binds me to thee.