Classic Poem

For me my fair a wreath has wove,
Where rival flowers in union meet;
As oft she kissed this gift of love
Her breath gave sweetness to the sweet.

A bee within a damask rose
Had crept, the nectared dew to sip;
But lesser sweets the thief foregoes
And fixes on Louisa's lip.

There tasting all the bloom of spring,
Waked by the ripening breath of May,
The ungrateful spoiler left his sting
And with the honey fled away.