Of ladies gay, in verses brief,
I've sung and ta'en the early rose,
And asked of every dewy leaf,
What could its tender tints disclose
More fair than those which, ruby bright,
Glowed on young cheeks, now red now fainter,
Until they merged in lily white,
Which shamed the snow, defied the painter.

But when I fain would sing of thee,
In vain my midnight lamp I burn,
Nor rose, nor wild anemone
Will serve my dainty Muse's turn;
She spreads her airy wings afar,
And bathes in stellar dews her crest,
And then you glow that loveliest star
Which diamonds young Aurora's breast.