Poem by 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.

1. On Gold
2. A Man to My Mind
3. Melody
4. On a Certain Alderman
5. Fanny of the Dell

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