The white rose sits on her grassy throne
Her hands are gloved in leaves of green
Her face is as pale as the winter moon
She looks to the sun, lively and keen
The sun beems down on her perfect face
She seems to sparkle in the light
Her day goes by at a leisurely pace
Her beauty is seen, even at night!
The bees are her suitors
She has plenty of those
But none does she favour
Than her lover red rose!
Waltzing Mouse
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-white-rose-5/
