Wild-rose, Sweetbriar, Eglantine, All these pretty names are mine, And scent in every leaf is mine, And a leaf for all is mine, And the scentOh, thats divine! Happy-sweet and pungent fine, Pure as dew, and pickd as wine. Leigh HuntSongs and Chorus of the Flowers. Sweetbriar.
The garden rose may richly bloom In cultured soil and genial air, To cloud the light of Fashions room Or droop in Beautys midnight hair, In lonelier grace, to sun and dew The sweetbrier on the hillside shows Its single leaf and fainter hue, Untrained and wildly free, yet still a sister rose! WhittierThe Bride of Pennacook. Pt. III. The Daughter.