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62

VIII. EACH BOWER HAS BEAUTY FOR ME.

Each bower has beauty for me,
There's a charm in each blossom that blows;
And, if absent the Lily should be,
I shall do very well with the Rose:
If Roses are not in the way,
I'll fly to a Hyacinth soon;
And I never will quarrel with May,
For wanting the Roses of June.
No! no! 'tis my pleasure to chase
Each pretty bud under the sun:
Why should I insult the whole race,
By a silly selection of one?
I love each exotic, that deigns
In a climate like this to expand;
And my heart its affection retains
For the bloom of my dear native land:
In summer's gay mansions I dwell,
And since summer so soon will be past,
Though I love her first bud very well,
I have love in reserve for her last.
Yes! yes! 'tis my pleasure to chase
Each pretty bud under the sun:
Why should I offend the whole race,
By a silly selection of one?