118 POETRY OF THE ROSE. 



The Moss-Rose wrapped her damask robe 



Close round her queenly form, 

 And led her nervous friend along, 



Who trembled at the storm. 



But the beautiful lady welcomed them 



With such a radiant eye, 

 That they fancied summer had come again, 



And winter was quite gone by. 



They took their India-rubbers off. 



And laid their hoods away. 

 And whispered in each other's ear, 



" We should like to spend the day." 



She charmed them with her tuneful voice. 



Till both were unable to stir ; 

 So there they staid, — and the flowers of love 



Have found their home with her. 



L. H. SiGOURNEY. 



THE ROSE. 



Its velvet lips the bashful Rose begun 

 To show, and catch the kisses of the sun : 

 Some fuller blown, their crimson honors shed ; 

 Sweet smelt the golden chives that graced their head. 



Pawkes. 



And first of all, the Rose ; because its breath 

 Is rich beyond the rest ; and when it dies, 

 It doth bequeath a charm to sweeten death. 



Barry Cornwall. 



His queen, the garden-queen,— his Rose, 

 Unbent by winds, unchill'd by snows. 





