Cupid and the Rose-bud

Young Love once woo'd a budding Rose,
(Sing hey down ho, the bleak winds blow.)
With fond delight his bosom glows,
(How softly fall the flakes of snow.)
Love watch'd the flower whose ruby tips
Peep'd coyly forth, like pouting lips,
Then nearer to the Rose he trips;
(The stately oak will soon lie low.)

Young Love was fond and bashful too,
(Sing hey down ho, the sea rolls aye.)
He sigh'd and knew not what to do;
(Life like an arrow flies away.)
Then whispering low his cherish'd wish,
The Rose-bud trembled on her bush,
While redder grew her maiden blush;
(Ruddy eve forecasts the brightest day.)

To pull this Rose young Love then tried;
('Tis sweet to hear the skylark sing.)
Her blush of hope she strove to hide;
(Joy soars aloft on painted wing.)
Love press'd the Rose-bud to his breast,
He felt the thorn, but well he guess'd
Such "Nay" meant "Yea," 'twas fond Love's jest;
('Tis honey soothes the bee's fell sting.)