THE ROSE THAT ALL ARE PRAISING.
I
The rose that all are praising
Is not the rose for me;
Too many eyes are gazing
Upon the costly tree.
But there's a rose in yonder glen,
That shuns the gaze of other men,
For me its blossom raising;
Oh, that's the rose for me!
II
The gem a King might covet
Is not the gem for me;
From darkness they would move it,
Save that the world may see.
But I've a gem that shuns display,
And next my heart worn ev'ry day,
So dearly do I love it;
Oh, that's the gem for me!
III
Gay birds in cages pining
Are not the birds for me;
Those plumes so brightly shining
Would fain fly off from thee:
But I've a bird that gaily sings,
Tho' free to rove, she folds her wings,
For me her flight resigning;
Oh, that's the bird for me!