English poem
No flow'r blooms so sweet as love
by Anonymous
No flow'r blooms so sweet as love, And prudish airs I hate; The flow'r I choose and most approve, Is kiss behind the garden gate.
When fair Louisa lovely maid, Confest her flame of late; I gave my fair tho' sore afraid, A kiss behind the garden gate.
Next morn from church I led my fair, Blest in our happy state; The flower she crops to deck her hair, Is kiss behind the garden gate.