Corn- The Language of Flowers

Corn.
Richness

If thou'lt be mine, no want or care
Shall e'er disturb thy life;
Thy days shall all be bright and fair,
With worldly blessings rife.

If thou'lt be mine, bright gems shall deck
Thy snowy arms and breast,
And pearls shall cluster round thy neck,
And on thy forehead rest.

If thou'lt be mine, what have I, love,
That is not also thine?
Oh then my heart no longer prove,
But say thou wilt be mine.