There was a Gardener who planted in a garden near a Rose-Tree, thus addressed it: "What a lovely flower is the Rose, a favorite alike with Gods and with men. I like your beauty and your perfume."
The Rose replied, "I agree, dear gardener,
flourish but for a brief season! If no cruel
hand pluck me from my stem, yet I must perish by
an early doom. But thou art immortal and dost
never fade, but bloomest for ever in renewed
youth."