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hose. 
And to the air its tender fragrance threw ; 
When the north wind enamour’d of thee grew ; 
And by his cold rude kiss thy charms decay: 
Now droops thy head, now fades thy blushing 
hue, 
No more the queen of flowers, no longer gay : 
So blooms a maid, her guardians—health and 
j°y— 
Her mind array’d in innocency’s vest— 
When suddenly, impatient to destroy, 
Death clasps the virgin to his iron breast. 
She fades—the parent, sister, friend, deplore 
The charms and budding virtues now no more. 
TIIE PLUCKED ROSE BUD. 
FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. 
A Rose, that bloomed the road-side by, 
Caught a young vagrant’s wanton eye; 
The child was gay, the morn was clear, 
The child would see the rose-bud near: 
He saw the blooming flower. 
My little rose, my rose-bud dear ! 
My rose that blooms the road-side near! 
The child exclaimed, ‘ My hands shall dare, 
Thee, rose, from off thy stem to tear :’ 
The rose replied, ‘ If I have need, 
