, O Rose.
And looking laugh on me,
And in thy laughter's ring,
The nightingale shall sing.
O Rose, a painted Rose,
is not the whole the whole,
Who paints the flower,
Paints not its fragrant soul.
tova
Take thou this Rose O Rose.
Since love's own flower it is,
And by that Rose that Rose,
Thy lover captive is.
Smell thou this Rose O Rose.
And know thy self as sweet.
As dawn is sweet.
Look on this Rose
