I spied beside the garden bed
 A tiny lass of ours,
 Who stopped and bent her sunny head
 Above the red June flowers.
 Pushing the leaves and thorns apart,
 She singled out a rose,
 And in its inmost crimson heart,
 Enraptured, plunged her nose.
 
 "If I smell just as sweet to you
 As you smell sweet to me!"