The little old woman picked up a rose
And smiled and said, "Nobody knows,
No one but God, just how it grows.
"Highborn or low, shoddy or neat,
It nods to all, to all is sweet;
Its loveliness is there to greet.
"Can money buy a thing so dear?
For youth, for age, it's growing here.
This gift of God bringing us cheer."
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