The morning rose, that untouched stands Armed with her briars, how sweet she smells! But plucked and strained through ruder hands, Her sweets no longer with herdwells, But scent and beauty both aregone, And leaves fall from her, one by… — Sir Robert Ayton Copy Share Image
The morning rose, that untouched stands Armed with her briars, how sweet she smells! But plucked and strained through ruder hands, Her sweets no… — Sir Robert Ayton Copy Share Image
