Classic Poem

Why , sever'd from its parent thorn,
Assumes the rose a brighter hue
Than when, impearl'd by dewy morn,
Among surrounding sweets it grew?

Why should it to the feasted sense,
Within a narrow room confin'd,
A richer perfume now dispense,
Than when it breath'd the fresh'ning wind?

Fraterna, hear the partial Muse
The mystery's pleasing cause proclaim:
More sweet its breath, more gay its hues,
Since from Affection's hand it came.