98 FLORA AND THALI 



LOVE IN A ROSE-BUD. 



A FRAGMEXT. 



As late each flower that sweetest blows 

 I plucked, the garden pride ; 



Within the petals of a Rose 

 A sleeping Love I spied. 



Around his brows a beamy wreath 



Of many a lucent hue ; 

 All purple glowed his cheek beneath, 

 • Inebriate with dew. 



COIERIDGE. 



A THOUGHT OF THE ROSE. 



Rosa, Rosa ! ijerche sulla tua belta, 

 ^empre e scritta questa parola— Morte ? 



How much of memory dwells amidst thy bloora, 

 Rose ! ever wearing beauty for thy dower ! 



The bridal day — the festival — the tomb — 

 Thou hast thy part in each, thou stateUest flower ! 



