“Tis of the Rose I Beg Her Pardon.
Of all the flowers in the garden,
‘Tis of the Rose I beg her pardon.
The daffodil springs only in the spring
Even though she is a lovely thing.
The Rose blooms summer, spring, and fall,
Border shrub, garden bush, or climbing tall.
Reds and whites, pink and palest yellow
Bold and striking, or colours mellow.
Chrysanthamum will make you sneeze,
Like Ragweed borne upon the breeze.
But fragrant Rose with perfume pure
Sends for its message a sweet allure,
That bids me pluck it long
before
The bloom is off the Rose that I adore.
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