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upon the forest. When the next morning’s sun arose 
and gilded those silent glades, the Roses, on which the 
blood of the Goddess of Beauty had fallen, and which 
were ever before white, were changed into a delicate 
crimson; and wherever a tear had fallen, there had 
sprung up a flower which the earth had never before 
borne, and that was the Lily of the Valley; and 
wherever a ruddy drop had fallen from the death- 
wound of Adonis sprang 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, be¬ 
came red, and was ever after dedicated to Beauty and 
Love. 
Its beautiful tint is traced to another source by a 
modern poet: 
As erst in Eden’s blissful bowers, 
Young Eve surveyed her countless flowers, 
An opening Rose of purest white 
She marked with eye that beamed delight, 
Its leaves she kissed, and straight it drew 
Erom beauty’s lip the vermeil hue. 
Carey. 
The poets have not exaggerated the beauty of the 
red-hued Rose, ske would be crowned Queen of the 
