On Brady's tower there grows a flower, <br />It is the loveliest flower that blows,— <br />At Castle Brady there lives a lady, <br />(And how I love her no one knows); <br />Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora <br />Presents her with this blooming rose. <br /> <br />'O Lady Nora,' says the goddess Flora, <br />'I've many a rich and bright parterre; <br />In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers, <br />But you're the fairest lady there: <br />Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty, <br />Can projuice a treasure that's half so fair!' <br /> <br />What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her! <br />Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew. <br />Beneath her eyelid, is like the vi'let, <br />That darkly glistens with gentle jew! <br />The lily's nature is not surely whiter <br />Than Nora's neck is,—and her arrums too. <br /> <br />'Come, gentle Nora,' says the goddess Flora, <br />My dearest creature, take my advice, <br />There is a poet, full well you know it, <br />Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,— <br />Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry, <br />If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise.'<br /><br />William Makepeace Thackeray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-of-flora/
