CHAPTER III. 



POETRY AND THE ROSE. 



Givt me a rose wheyi all the world is gay\ 

 Give )ne a ruse in Jiine or smiling Afay, 

 Give me a rose to cast its spell around. 

 For where the rose doth bloom^ great joy is found. 



T.G.W.H. 



He is a soulless being who cannot delight in verse, 

 or whose eye conveys no joy to the mind at the sight of a 

 lovely flower. The song of the Thrush and the glory 

 of the Rose to me from boyhood upwards 'have ever 

 remained as two of the greatest gifts of a beneficent 

 Creator. 



What wonder that the heart is moved to give ex- 

 pression of the joy it feels, and that song and Verse 

 should honour the giver and the gift of earth's most 

 lovely flower. I make no excuse for introducing 

 into this book poor samples of the humble poetic efforts 

 of my pen, for they are offerings to the Queen of 

 Flowers, and he who values my information will 

 tolerate my praise. We cannot all express our thoughts 

 as Sappho or loose for friends those utterances they'd 

 choose; but we can burn incense to our hearts' desire, 

 and lift the minds of many higher than our own. It 

 has been truly said, " In every love-song Roses 

 bloom " ; true, for love gives its best, and the tribute 

 of all in the floral world has been the Rose. One of 

 the greatest gifts I have ever had given to me was a 

 Rose plucked on Christmas Day by our old gardener 

 when I was a boy. 



The sweetest song I ever heard was of the Rose, 

 and I am sure that there is no perfume that lingers in 

 my memory more than that obtained from the pot- 

 pourri jar which stood in the drawing-room of the old 

 home. 



