LOVE'S CAUTIONS.
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,—
O, that's the rose for me.
The rose that all are praising. T.H. BAYLY.
But the fruit that can fall without shaking,
Indeed is too mellow for me.
The Answer. LADY MARY W. MONTAGU.
Love in a hut, with water and a crust,
Is—Lord forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust.
Lamia. J. KEATS.
The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.
The Giaour. LORD BYRON.
Love in your hearts as idly burns
As fire in antique Roman urns.
Hudibras, Pt. II. Canto I. S. BUTLER.