A stem with a reddish bud on,
A crown among the fairest in the sun;
It's the rose you all can see,
That opens its flower beneath a tree.
It's for you to adore and cheer,
If you do care for it being here;
It opens its crown to a bumble bee,
It grows its fairest for you and me.
Then there is the lily white as snow,
Or yellow or pink petals to show;
Can you not say it's fairest too?
Its April flowers grow just for you.
It shows you the newborn in lives,
When its blooms first in spring arrives;
With fragrance that freshens the air,
I love to have both these flowers here.
(To, Robert Burns - 1759-1796)