John Cunningham

To Chloe with a Rose

Yes, every flower that blows
I pass'd unheeded by,
Till this enchanted Rose
Had fix'd my wand'ring eye.

It scented every breeze
That wanton'd o'er the stream,
Or trembled through the trees,
To meet the morning-beam.

To deck that beauteous maid,
Its fragrance can't excel,
From some celestial shade
The damask charmer fell:

And as her balmy sweets
On Chloe's breast she pours,
The Queen of Beauty greets
The gentle Queen of Flowers.