o- 
Sweet Brier, American. —^UttC 5tb— 
Simplicity. 
The little four-leaved rose that I love best. 
That freshest w'ill awake, and sweetest go to rest. 
J. G. C. Brainard. 
Bed Eoeebud. — 6tb — Pure and Lovely. 
’Tis sweet to hold the infant stems, 
Yet drooping with Aurora’s gems. 
And fresh inhale the spicy sighs 
That from the weeping buds arise. 
A nacreon. 
Wild Rose. — 7tb — SimpUcity. 
Here’s a wild rose just in bud, 
Spring’s beauty in its hood. 
John Clare. 
Rose, Deep Red. — 8tb — Bashful Shame. 
The ro.se, she is a queen—moie wonderful 
Than any that have bloomed on Orient thrones. 
Barry Cornwall. 
ose, Daily. — 9tb — Thy Smile I aspire to. 
Rose ! thou art the sweetest flower 
That ever drank the amber shower. 
Moore's Anacreon. 
Musk Rose. — lOtb — Capricious Beauty, 
o 
The sweetest flower wild nature yields, 
A fresh-blown musk rose.— Keats. 
