A SONG. (Sent to CHLOE with a Rose.)

Yes, every flower that blows I pass'd unheeded bye, Till this enchanting rose Had fix'd my wand'ring eye;

It scented every breeze, That wanton'd o'er the stream, Or trembled through the trees, To meet the morning beam.

To deck that beauteous maid, Its fragrance can't excel, From some celestial shade The damask charmer fell;

And as her balmy sweets, On Chloe's breast she pours, The queen of Beauty greets The gentle queen of Flowers.