The lily has a smooth stalk, Will never hurt your hand; But the rose upon her briar Is lady of the land. There`s sweetness in an apple tree, And profit in the corn; But lady of all beauty Is a rose upon a thorn. When with moss and honey She tips her bending briar, And half unfolds her glowing heart, She sets the world on fire.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.