Rhodora, if the sages ask thee why
This charm is thine, this blush, this tender dye,
Thy counsel thou shalt keep,
Nor the sage's eye
Shall see the simple truth.
Thee, God, who made thee, dost thou praise?
Thee, God, who made thee, dost thou praise?
This charm is thine, this blush, this tender dye,
Thy counsel thou shalt keep,
Nor the sage's eye
Shall see the simple truth.
Thee, God, who made thee, dost thou praise?
Thee, God, who made thee, dost thou praise?