184 FLORA'S LEXICON, 



OSE, MOSS. The elegant moss rose is 

 commonly supposed to be the offspring of 

 the Provence rose, though some consider it 

 to belong to the family of hundred-leaved 

 roses. It has ever been made the emblem 

 of perfected joy ; Milton mentions it as 

 " without thorn, the rose ;" and an anony- 

 mous writer has sung of it in that character. 



PLEASURE WITHOUT ALLOY. 



Oh! I love the sweet blooming, the pretty moss rose, 

 'T is the type of true pleasure, and perfected joy ; 



Oh! I envy each insect that dares to repose 



'Midst its leaves, or among its soft beauties to toy. 



I love the sweet lily, so pure and so pale, 



With a bosom as fair as the new-fallen snows; 



Her luxuriant odours she spreads through the vale, 

 Yet e'en she must yield to my pretty moss rose. 



Oh ! I love the gay hearts-ease, and violet blue, 



The sun-flower and blue-bell, each flow'ret that blows, 



The fir-tree, the pine-tree, acacia, and yew, 

 Yet e'en these must yield to my pretty moss rose. 



Yes, I love my moss rose, for it ne'er had a thorn, 

 'Tis the type of life's pleasures, unmix'd with its woes; 



'Tis more gay, and more bright, than the opening morn — 

 Yes, all things must yield to my pretty moss rose. 



Anon. 



Though duller thoughts succeed, 

 The bliss e'en of a moment, still is bliss. 

 Thou would'st not of her dew-drops spoil the thorn, 

 Because her glory will not last till noon ; 

 Nor still the lightsome gambols of the colt, 

 Whose neck to-morrow's yoke will gall. Fye on't ! 



If this be wise, 'tis cruel. 



Baillie. 



