I'd rather be a village maid

I'd rather be a village maid

And owe to nature all my bloom,

Than turn to fashion's glass for aid

And flaunt beneath her borrow'd plume;

To highborn dames I leave the gem,

They grace the splendour it bestows,

But Oh! what fate ordained for them

Would ill become a simple rose.

Oh! not for me her lover's vow

That lures me to a prouder sphere,

I have no heart for loving now,

Unless my own first love were here.

I see his smile, I hear his voice,

Though years of absence interpose

And I can make no second choice,

For I am but a simple rose.