Among the brambles and the brake
Beside the dusty way;
This dainty little blossom sheds
Its sweetness all the day.
It makes the rough hill pastures fair;
Amid the rocks it grows;
It clambers o'er the gray stone wall,—
The simple brier rose!
FRANCES.
(With a blush rose.)
This blushes like a morning cloud.
GERTRUDE.
(With a moss rose.)
And this is veiled in moss.
HELENA.
(With a cluster of climbing roses.)
This, with the honeysuckle-vines,
My lattice twines across.
ANNIE.
(To whom all the roses are given.)
And which one is the fairest flower
I'm sure cannot be told:
We'll twine them all in one long wreath,
The white and red and gold.