How sharp the thorns that guard the furze's 0 That with its gold the heath adorns.
Low lurking int the rose's bower, How sharp the thorns Sharp thorns shall gall their feet that strive and fret Up Duty's narrow, toilsome way But sharper pleastire's path beset At closing day.
Choose we in youth the thorns we see alway, Naught heeding this world's scorns 5 So age may sigh not, well-a-day The rose his fallen now for aye, How sharp the thorns
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.