It is the flower
That distils the pure heart of a plant,
Be it jasmine or the rose, 
Be it a creeper or a tree,
Only their flowers with honey brim. 
That outdoes their fruits in sweetness'
Of ambrosial nectar divine 
While our earth teems with diverse fruits 
Some bite bitter the tongue in taste
But their flowers spill their essence sweet 
Untouched by their bittering crown.
The flower it is that draws our eyes 
In tinted cadence of romance,
Its softness is heaven to our touch
While its wafting breath of fragrance 
Inhales to a thrill of fainting bliss. 
And its pure honey steeps our tongue
In fine flavour of nectarine trance
And does not fail our fifth delight 
To melodise to a soulful sense.
By luring the tuneful buzzers 
Humming and quaffing in her heart.
So does a spring of purest love 
The gracious core of a human flower
Ever sprout in measureless sweetness.