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to the Rose is in a different manner most beautifully des- 
eribed by the poet Carey: 
When erst in Eden’s blissful bowers, 
Young Eve surveyed her countless flowers, 
An opening Rose of purest white 
She marked with eye that beamed delight. 
Its leaves she kissed, and straight it drew 
From beauty’s lips the vermeil’s hue. 
Herrick, in his “ Hesperides,” gives us still another ver- 
sion of how Roses became red: 
Roses at first were white, 
*Till they could not agree, 
Whether my Sappho’s breast, 
Or they more white should be. 
But being vanquished quite, 
A blush their cheeks bespread, 
Since which, believe the rest, 
The Roses first came red. 
The Rose is emblematic of voluptuous love, and the cre- 
ative imagination of the poet thus pleasingly accounts 
for its first being clad in a mossy garment: 
The angel of the fiowers one day 
Beneath a Rose-tree sleeping lay, 
That spirit—to whese care is given 
To bathe young buds in dews from heaven. 
Awaking from his light repose, 
The angel whispered to the Rose: 
*‘Oh, fondest odject of my care, 
Still fairest found where all are fair, 
For the sweet shade thou’st given me, 
Ask what thou wilt; ’tis granted thee.” 
“Then,” said the Rese with deepening Sea 
“On me another grace bestow.” 
The spirit paused in silent thought; 
What grace was there that flower had not? 
’Twas but a moment, o’er the Rose 
A veil of moss the angel throws; 
And robed in nature’s simplest weed, 
Could there a flower that Rose exceed? 
