The RoseChristina RossettiThe lily has a smooth stalk,

Will never hurt your hand;
But the rose upon her brier

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 brier,
And half unfolds her glowing heart,

She sets the world on fire.