11 



THE TIME OF ROSES. 



Gather the Roses in July, 



\t the end of June expect them , 

 Hut ever remember that you and I 



Ne'er gather if we neglect tRem. 



TO THE WILD ROSE. 



O floral spray from which the warbler sings . 



Dear blushing Rose whose wooded pungent scent 



Doth fill the country side with sweet content, 



What love is conjured up, and presence brings ! 



Dear Queen of lavis'h feast of pleasant things 



That winter and the spring too long hath pent I 



Thou hallmark of the summer now find vent ! 



Go, cast thy stars, bright blooms o'er mantle green, 



And let in jewelled robes thy face be seen ! 



Bear me, dear rose, on fairy petalled wings, 



That like the butterfly I too may float 



On perfumed breezes, while the lark's sweet note 



Wakes childhood up within my heart again, 



And stirs to simple pleasures free from pain. 



LIVE! 



Spend each hour as best you may — 



Life is full of sorrow, 

 E'en the Roses of to-day 



Live but through the morrow. 



