The Rose

Whenas the mildest month

Of jolly June doth spring,

And gardens green with happy hue

Their famous fruits do bring;

When eke the lustiest time

Reviveth youthly blood,

Then springs the finest featured flower

In border fair that stood.

Which moveth me to say,

In time of pleasant year,

Of all the pleasant flowers in June

The red rose hath no peer.