The Sweet Briar.
I thought t’other day while attempting to thin
A Briar which over my palings had curled,
As La Pompadour said, “If this were but a sin
It might be the jolliest job in the world.”
For its dear little thorns to their destiny true
Seemed to know they were made to be scratchers and stingers,
And to show me what I was attempting to do
Kept eternally gripping and pricking my fingers.