Part 1 — IN THE GARDEN
Reading edition
I spied beside the garden bed A tiny lass of ours, Who stopped and bent her sunny head Above the red June flowers.
Pushing the leaves and thorns apart, She singled out a rose, And in its inmost crimson heart, Enraptured, plunged her nose.
"O dear, dear rose, come, tell me true— Come, tell me true," said she, "If I smell just as sweet to you As you smell sweet to me!"
Ernest Crosby [1856-1907]