Bouquet said: ?My floral ring
 The homage of a heart encloses,
Whose thoughts to you go worshipping
 In perfume from my blushing roses.? 

Bracelet said: ?My rubies red,
 Though hard the gleam that each exposes,
Will last when flowers of Spring are fled
 And dead are all the Summer roses.? 

Beauty mused awhile, and said,
 ?Here?s poesy!? and sighed, ?Here prose is
Bouquet! I choose the rubies red!?
 In Winter they will buy me roses.?