That spirit to whose charge is given
To bathe young buds in dews from heaven;
Awaking from his light repose,
The angel whispered to the Rose;
‘O fondest object of my care,
Still fairest found where all are fair,
For the sweet shade thou’st given to me
Ask what thou wilt, ’tis granted thee.’
‘Then’ said the Rose, with deepened glow,
‘On me another grace bestow:’