Faith! the Dandelion is To my mind too lowly; Then the winsome Violet Is, forsooth, too holy. There's the Touch-me-not - go to! What! a face that's speckled Like a buxom milking-maid's Which the sun hath freckled! And the Tiger-lily's wild, Flirts, is fierce and haughty; And the Sweet-Brier Rose, I swear, Pricks you and is naughty. Columbine a fool's cap hath, Then she is too merry; Gossip, I would sooner woo Some plebeian Berry. There's the shy Anemone, - Well - her face shows sorrow; Pale, goodsooth! alive to-day, Dead and gone to-morrow. And that big-eyed, fair-cheeked wench, The untoward Daisy, She's been wooed, aye! overmuch - Then she is too lazy. Pleasant persons are they all, And their virtues many; Faith, I know but good of all, And naught ill of any. Marry! 'tis a May-apple, Fair-skinned as a Saxon, Whom I woo, a fragrant thing Delicate and waxen.
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