Omar's Rose 



Look to the Rose that blows about us " Lo, 

 " Laughing," she says, " into this World I blow : 



" At once the silken Tassel of my Purse 

 "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throws." 



Rubaiyat o f Omar Khayyam. 



O stately Roses, yellow, white, and red, 

 As Omar loved you, so we love to-day. 



Some Roses with the vanished years have sped, 

 And some our mother's mothers laid away 



Among their bridal gown's soft silken folds, 



Where each pale petal for their sons a precious 

 memory holds. 



And some we find among the yellowed leaves 

 Of slender albums, once the parlor's pride, 



Where faint-traced Ivy-pattern interweaves 

 The mottoes over which the maiden sighed. 



O faded Roses, did they match your red, 



Those fair young cheeks whose color long ago 



with years has fled? Jgha Russf// Hay ^ 



The Moss Rose 



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, 't is granted thee." 

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

 " On me another grace bestow." 

 The spirit paused, in silent thought, 



