For Rose

I know one lady - she has a flower's name.
Her heart is full of love and flame.
She's writer of own strongests poems Which wrote without jeroboams.

She has delightful greeny garden.
She speaks with him on a language bardi.
All birds sing morning happy songs,
Which sound as it were dongs.

She is a perfect kinda fairy
She always smiley, her eyes are starry.
Her name is Rose. Dear Rose.
Whose heart is never close.