The dappled pink and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Chloe’s hair.
At morn the nymph vouchsafed to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers less blooming than her face,
The scent less fragrant than her breath.
The flowers she wore along the day;
And every nymph and shepherd said,
That in her hair they look’d more gay
Than glowing in their native bed.