The spotless maid is like the blooming rose Which on its native stem unsullied grows; Where fencing walls the garden-space surround, Nor swains, nor … - John Hoole

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The spotless maid is like the blooming rose
Which on its native stem unsullied grows;
Where fencing walls the garden-space surround,
Nor swains, nor browsing cattle tread the ground.
But if some hand the tender stalk invades,
Lost is its beauty, and its colour fades:
No more the care of heaven, or garden's boast,
And all its praise with youths and maidens lost.