Roses that down the alleys shine afar, 



And groups under the dreaming garden-trees*'* 



MATTHEW ARNOLD. 



JUNE 



" Rose of a hundred leaves," * bright flower the dawnlight 



is wooing, 

 Over thy fragrant heart, the morn-sun his gold veil 



weaves ; 



Summer again is in thee its beautiful brief life renewing, 

 " Rose of a hundred leaves." 



Flower, born of morning's laughter, thy incense the sun 

 retrieves, 



Soft odours lock'd in thy breast when night was sur- 

 rounding, endewing 



With silvery jewels a thousand that till morn to thy 

 lustre cleaves. 



When whispering twilight bids thy petals of coral be 



strewing, 

 Rose of a day ! thou lett'st fall all thy beauty where 



green turf heaves, 

 Shedding a century of leaves where Summer her steps is 



pursuing, 



" Rose of a hundred leaves." 



/ TT V HESE present days is the time of the rose 



" What is sweeter than a rose ? 

 What is fairer ? " 



asks George Herbert ; and truly, it is unsurpassable in the 

 fragrance it bestows, and matchless the form and grace of its 

 blossoms a flower which, as Shakespeare says, 



" By any other name would smell as sweet." 

 * " Rose of a hundred leaves," i.e. Rosa centifolia. 



*47 



