LIVE TO DIE U 



A violet bed is budding near, 



Wherein a lark has made her nest; 

 And good they are, but not the best; 



And dear they are, but so dear. 



CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. 



An October Garden 



In my Autumn garden I was fain 



To mourn among my scattered roses; 

 Alas for that last rosebud which uncloses 

 To Autumn's languid sun and rain 

 When all the world is on the wane! 



Which has not felt the sweet restraint of June, 

 Nor heard the nightingale in tune. 



Broad-faced asters by my garden walk, 

 You are but coarse compared with roses; 

 More choice, more dear that rosebud which 



uncloses, 



Faint-scented, pinched, upon its stock, 

 That least and last, which cold winds balk; 

 A rose it is though least and last of all, 

 A rose to me though at the fall. 



CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. 



[i75] 



