'The Rose is a Rose,

And was always a Rose,

But now the theory goes,

That the apple's a rose,

And the pear is, and so's

the plum I suppose,

Dear only knows,

What will next prove a Rose'

You of course are a Rose,

And may still stay a Rose,

If in the throes

Of vindictive prose

You retain that scent

That really shows

What really makes a rose

And unless I am blind

I do see a Rose

With thorns a-plenty

And a bud that froze

But for my the sake of my lows

Shed this winter ghost

And remain

A rose