POETRY OF THE ROSE. 89 



Her eye the tree of knowledge caught, 



With golden fruitage crown'd ; 

 But when a free access she sought, 



No free access she found. 



For shrub and flower there thickly sprung, 



To check her wayward foot, 

 And in deep file their branches flung 



Around the sacred fruit. 



Yet, urged by Satan's false pretence, 



Prime source of all our woes - 

 She dared to break the blooming fence, 



And trampled on the Rose. 



Unmov'd, she stretch'd the impious hand, 



The alluring sweets to prove, 

 Regardless of her LORD'S command, 



Regardless of His love. 



The injured flower beheld the theft, 



And, wounded, hung its head ; 

 The native white its petals left, 



Which blushing, chang'd to red. 



Its foliage wept a dewy shower, 



And mourn'd the strange event ; 

 Eve turn'd and saw the impassion'd flower, 



And marvel'd what it meant. 



Awhile she stood and gazed thereon, 



Till, trembling, she withdrew, 

 Unconscious she had trampled oh 



The fairest flower that grew. 



Ere this event of sin and shame, 

 No prickly thorns were found ; 

 But now they burst from every stem, 



And with the rose abound. 



J. WILLIAMS. 



