Bouquet said: -My floral ring
The homage of a heart encloses,
Whose thoughts to you go worshipping
In perfume from my blushing roses.�

Bracelet said: -My rubies red,
Though hard the gleam that each exposes,
Will last when flowers of Spring are fled
And dead are all the Summer roses.�

Beauty mused awhile, and said,
-Here-s poesy!� and sighed, -Here prose is
Bouquet! I choose the rubies red!-
In Winter they will buy me roses.�