Sabæan Empress! in her breast, though small,
Beauty and infinite sweetness sweetly dwell,
Inextricable. Or dost dare prefer
The Woodbine, for her fragrant summer breath?
Or Primrose, who doth haunt the hours of Spring,
A wood-nymph brightening places lone and green?
Or Cowslip? or the virgin Violet,
That nun, who, nestling in her cell of leaves,
Shrinks from the world, in vain!
Yet, wherefore choose, when Nature doth not choose?