The painted rose

Take thou this Rose O Rose.

Since love's own flower it is,

And by that Rose that Rose,

Thy lover captive is.

Smell thou this Rose O Rose.

And know thy self as sweet

As dawn is sweet.

Look on this Rose, O Rose.

And looking laugh on me,

And in thy laughter's ring,

The nightingale shall sing.

Kiss thou this Rose, O Rose,

That it may know

the scarlet of thy mouth.

O Rose, this painted Rose

Is not the whole;

Who paints the flower

Paints not its fragrant soul.