THE MOSS ROSE. 



JPRQM THE GERMAN. 

 BY J. B. 



THE Angel of the flowers one day, 



Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay ; 



That spirit to whom charge is given 



To bathe young huds in dews of Heaven ; 



Awaking from his light repose, 



The angel whispered to the rose : 



Oh, fondest object of my care, 



Still fairest found, where all is fair ; * 



For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me, 



Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee !" 



" Then," said the rose, with deepen'd glow, 



66 On me another grace bestow." 



The spirit paused in silent thought : 



What grace was there the 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 ? 



65 



