FLORA AND THALIA. 107 



THE MOSS-ROSE. 



{Rosa imiscosa.) 



The Rose-bud swelled in Sharon's vale, 

 And bloom'd in Eden beauteously, 



It drank the breath of southern gale, 

 It prov'd the warmth of summer sky ; 



But o'er thy growth no summer rose, 



But drifted lay the untrodden snows. 



The Rose of England beamed of yore, 



In lily and in crimson hue; 

 Its bloom was dipped in human gore. 



And sullied were its leaves to view; 

 But thou hast spread amidst the storm. 

 In stainless purity thy form. 



Sweet innocence ! by mercy fed, 



With light, and warmth, and shelter meet ; 

 Whilst winter all his horrors sped, 



In drifted snow and driving sleet ; 

 Thus have I seen, in maiden form, 

 A beauteous nursling of the storm ! 



Sweet purity ! no grosser breath 



Of fervid winds and scorching skies, 



Taught thee to spring from mother earth. 

 And, midst impurities arise ; 



