Lady of All Beauty

The lily has a smooth stalk,

Will never hurt your hand;

But the rose upon her briar

Is lady of the land.

There's sweetness in an apple tree,

And profit in the corn;

But lady of all beauty

Is a rose upon a thorn.

When with moss and honey

She tips her bending briar,

And half unfolds her glowing heart,

She sets the world on fire.