Sweet Rosalie, say, will you take
This tiny gift for friendship’s sake?
Yes: Friendship will forever shine,
Upon a brow so fair as thine.
Then may the union lasting be,
Between dear Isabelle and thee.
Oh, I forgot; ’tis sweet May-day,
When Flora paints the mead so gay.
Go to your own romantic bower,
And gather there the choicest flower;
Entwine your wreath with snow-drops, too,
And then ’twill more resemble you.