[Roses I see, the sweetest roses]
Roses I see, the sweetest roses,
As in the cool kiosk I pass,
Tied in a thousand fragrant posies,
And fastened to the roof with grass.
What has bewitched the grass, I wonder?
It is the humblest weed that grows.
How comes it that it sits up yonder
And on a level with the rose?
“Silence!” The grass said, and in sadness
Let fall its tears in pearls of dew;
“The generous man robs none of gladness
And never scorns old friends for new.
I am no rose among the roses,
And yet there's not a child but knows
That the poor grass that ties these posies
Is from the Garden of the Rose!”
