lil§! PvOSE — J _ OVE. 
OW much of memory dwells amidst thy 
jPgs®* bloom, 
Rose ! ever wearing beauty for thy dower 
The bridal-day — the festival—the tomb— 
Thou hast thy part in each, thou stateliest flower 
Therefore, with thy soft breath come floating by 
A thousand images of love or grief; 
Dreams, fill’d with tokens of mortality, 
beautiful and brief 
X>eep thoughts of all thin; 
Not such thy spells o’er those that hailed thee first, 
In the clear light of Eden’s golden day ! 
There thy rich leaves to crimson glory burst, 
Link’d with no dim remembrance of decay. 
Rose 1 for the banquet gather’d, and the bier ; 
Rose 1 colour’d now by human hope and pain ; 
Surely where death is not-nor change, nor fear, 
Vet may we meet thee, joy’s own flower, again ! J 
IIcmans. .<•' 
