HOW THE ROSE BECAME RED 297 
must perish, that they must again mingle with the earth 
from which they first sprang, before they could share the 
immortality of the gods; but that when so many moons 
had waxed and waned, he would, in pity for her sorrow, 
and for the sake of Love, which never dies, restore her 
mourned Adonis, but not until the roses bloomed again, 
which the autumn winds were then withering upon earth. 
He remembered not at the moment that she whom he 
sought to console had the sole dominion over these regal 
flowers, that they were dedicated to her and to Love, 
She had but to wish it and they began to bloom again — 
and as she sat in silence, she felt the warm blood flowing 
slowly through the veins of Adonis — as the day dawned, 
his hand returned her own eager pressure, and when his 
lips moved they gave back murmur for murmur, and kiss 
for kiss. 
When the next morning's sun arose and gilded these 
silent glades, the Roses, on which the blood of the God- 
dess of Beauty had fallen, and which were ever before 
white, were changed into a delicate crimson ; and wher- 
ever a tear had dropped, there had sprung up a flower 
which the earth had never before born, and that was the 
Lily of the Valley ; and wherever a ruddy drop had fallen 
from the death-wound of Adonis, there rose up the red 
flower which still beareth his name. Even the white 
apple-blossoms, which he clutched in his agony, ever after 
wore the ruddy stain which they caught from his folded 
fingers ; and the drowsy Poppy grew up everywhere around 
the spot, as if to denote that the only consolation which 
can be found for sorrow is the long, unbroken sleep of 
Death. 
Thus the Rose, which was before white, became red, 
and was ever afterwards dedicated to Beauty and Love. 
And the Lily of the Valley ever afterwards came up with 
the earliest flowers of spring, proclaiming that Happiness 
may again return even after the long silence of Death's 
unbroken, wintry sleep. 
