80 POETRY OF THE ROSE. 



Ever thus together live, 

 And to man a lesson give, 

 Moss, the work of vanished years. 

 Rose, that but to-day appears. 



Moss, that covers dateless tombs ; 

 Bud, with early sweet that blooms ; 

 Childhood thus, in happy rest. 

 Lies on ancient Wisdom's breast. 



Moss and Rose, and Age and Youth, 

 Flush and Verdure, Hope and Truth, 

 Yours be peace that knows not strife, 

 One the root and one the life. 



John Sterling. 



LEGEND OF THE ROSE. 



Ah, lady ! list my tale, 



I was the summer's fairest pride, 

 The nightingale's betrothed bride ; 

 In Shiraz's bowers I sprung to birth 

 When Love first lighted on the earth ; 

 And then my pure, inodorous bosom. 



Blooming on its thorny tree. 

 Was snowy as its mother's blossom. 



Rising from the emerald sea. 

 Young Love rambling through the wood. 

 Pound me in my solitude, 

 Bright with dew and freshly blown. 

 And trembling to the zephyr's sighs. 

 But as he stood, to gaze upon 

 The living gem with raptured eyes. 

 It chanced a bee was busy there, 

 Searching for its fragrant fare ; 



