I 
HOSE. 
16 !) 
Spoiled of that juice which kept it fresh and 
green, 
As high as it did raise, bows low the head. 
Drummond 
A single rose is shedding there 
Its lonely lustre meek and pale : 
It looks as planted by despair— 
So white, so faint—the slightest gale 
( Might whirl the leaves on high ; 
And yet though storms and blasts assail, 
And hands more rude than wintry sky, 
May wring it from the stem in vain— 
To-morrow sees it bloom again ! 
The stalk some spirit quickly rears, 
And waters with celestial tears ; 
For well may maids of Helle deem 
That this can be no earthly flower, 
Which mocks the tempest’s withering hour, 
And buds unsheltered by a bower; 
Nor droops though Spring refuse her shower, 
Nor wooes the summer beam: 
To it the livelong night there sings 
A bird unseen, but not remote : 
Invisible his airy wings. 
But soft as harp that Ilouri strings, 
His lone entrancing note. 
Bride or Abydos 
