THE MOSS ROSE 67 



On lovers' cheeks ; the thorns its armour are, 

 And in its centre shines a golden star, 

 As on a favourite's cheek a sequin glows ; 

 And thus the garden's favourite is the rose.' 

 The master from his open basket shook 

 The roses on my head." 



BAYARD TAYLOR. 



THE MOSS ROSE 



(Translation) 



THE angel of the flowers, one day, 



Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay 



That spirit to whose charge 'tis given 



To bathe young buds in dews of heaven. 



Awaking from his light repose, 



The angel whispered to the rose : 



" O fondest object of my care, 



Still fairest found, where all are fair ; 



For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me 



Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee." 



" Then," said the rose, with deepened glow, 



" 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 ? 



KRUMMACHEB. 



