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Floral Poetry. 
WORSHIP OF THE ROSE-TREE. 
AUTHOR of beauty, spirit of power, 
^ ^ Thou who didst will that the Rose should be, 
Here is the place, and this the hour 
To seek thy presence, and bow to thee. 
Bright is the world with the sun’s first ray, 
Cool is the dew on the soft, green sod ; 
The Rose-tree blooms, while the birds sing praise, 
And earth gives glory to nature’s God. 
Under this beautiful work of thine, 
The flowery boughs that are bending o’er 
The glistening turf, to thy will divine 
I kneel, and its Maker and mine adore. 
Thou art around us; the robe of light 
Touches the gracefully waving tree; 
Turning to jewels the tears of night, 
And making the buds unfold to thee. 
Thy name is marked in delicate lines, 
On flower and leaf that deck the stem ; 
Thy care is seen, and thy wisdom shines, 
In even the thorn that is guarding them. 
Now while the Rose that has burst her cup, 
Opens her heart, and freely throws 
To me her odours, I offer up 
Thanks to the Being who made the Rose. 
H. F. Gould. 
