188 FLORA'S INTERPRETER. 



ROSE, YELLOW. . T^ 6 v cjjow ro * e ' w n nativc of Tta| y- 



D i tff1 Thi'Y arc both single and double; 



and 'have the odor of a pine-apple. 



LET US FORGET. 



I never heard 



Of any true affection, but 't was nipt 

 With care, that like the caterpillar eats 

 The leaves of the spring's sweetest book the rose. 



Middlcton. 



SENTIMENT. 



I look upon the fading flowers 



Thou gavest me, lady, in thy mirth, 

 And mourn, that with the perishing hours 



Such fair things perish from the earth; 

 For thus, I know, the moment's feeling 



Its own light web of life unweaves, 

 The dearest trace from memory stealing, 



Like perfume from their dying leaves 

 The thought that gave it, and the flower, 

 Alike the creatures of an hour. 



And thus it better were, perhaps 

 For feeling is the nurse of pain, 



And joys that linger in their lapse 

 Must die at last and so are vain. 



