The Rose
Sweet serene sky-like Flower,
Haste to adorn her Bower :
From thy long cloudy bed,
Shoot forth thy damask head.
New-startled blush of Flora !
The grief of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more ;
Haste, haste, to strowe her floor.
Vermilion Ball that's given
From lip to lip in Heaven ;
Love's Couches cover-led :
Haste, haste, to make her bed.
Dear Offspring of pleas'd Venus,
And Jollie, plump Silenus ;
Haste, haste, to deck the Haire
Of th' only, sweetly Faire.