be one and see this rose with me
she will snare and tear all that
care enough to be bold and hold;
all told, beauty reins with pain,
with a heart that will start and dart;
a tart, not a weed, she will need,
indeed, but inspire a choir and
a fire of want, she will taunt
a soul to pluck and tuck; she may
bring luck to a lover; discover
and uncover her scent; content
in her enchantment as she vies to die
