Queen Rose

The jessamine shows like a star;
The lilies sway like sceptres slim;
Fair clematis from near and far
Sets from forth its wayward tangled whim;
Curved meadowsweet blooms rich and dim;—
But yet a rose is fairer far.

The jessamine is odorous; so
Maid-lilies are, and clematis;
And where tall meadowsweet-flowers grow
A rare and subtle perfume is;—
What can there be more choice than these?—
A rose when it doth bud and blow.

Let others choose sweet jessamine,
Or weave their lily—crown aright,
And let who love it pluck and twine
Loose clematis, or draw delight
From meadowsweets’ cluster downy white—
The rose, the perfect rose, be mine.