118 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
The origin of that exquisitely beautiful variety, 
the Moss Rose, is thus fancifully accounted for : 
The Angel of the Flowers, one day, 
Beneath a Rose Tree sleeping lay, 
That Spirit to whose charge is given 
To bathe young buds in dews from heaven. 
Awaking from his high 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*st given to me, 
Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee." 
Then said the Rose with deepening glow, 
" On me another grace bestow." 
The Spirit paused in silent thought — 
What grace was there that flower had not J 
'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? 
Pfeffel, a German poet, has pleasingly accounted 
for the Origin of the Yellow Rose, the emblem of 
envy, in the following manner : 
Once a White Rose-bi:d reared her head,. 
And peevishly to Flora said 
" Look at my sister's blushing hue — 
Pray, mother, let mc have it too." 
