With my lov’d buds a chaplet share,
Which even when faded yield delight?
“Thy verdant foliage, though it shine,
Emits a faint and sickly smell,
While every leaf and thorn of mine
Soft and delicious sweets exhale.
“And even those thorns thy folly blames,
They shield me from the spoiler’s power,
Whose niggard with an object claims,
He knows must perish in an hour.