THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
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fading, to be deemed a suitable representative of fleeting 
beauty, and many are the “ morals ” that the poets have 
deduced from its brief existence; but there is another 
record to be made, and that is of its fragrance after death : 
the flush of beauty may be gone from its withered petals, 
but the scent of the Rose will cling to it still; and so, even 
when life is over, we yet place, as Barry Cornwall says : 
“ First of all the rose, because its breath 
Is rich beyond the rest; and when it dies, 
It doth bequeath a charm to sweeten death.” 
“ The heart doth recognise thee, 
Alone, alone ! the heart doth smell thee sweet, 
Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete, 
Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee. 
Yes, and the heart doth owe thee, 
More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold, 
Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold ! 
Lie still upon this heart, which breaks below thee !” 
Mrs. Browning. 
“ Love is like a rose, 
And a month it may not see 
Ere it withers where it grows.”— Bailey. 
Spenser has bequeathed us a very felicitous stanza about 
the Rose as an emblem of modesty and fragility : 
“Ah! see the virgin rose, how sweetly she 
Doth first peep forth with bashful modesty, 
That fairer seems the less ye see her may ! 
Lo! see soon after how, more bold and free, 
Her bared bosom she doth broad display ! 
Lo! see soon after how she fades and falls away 1” 
Sir Walter Sc Ytt tells us : 
“ The rose is fairest when ’tis budding new, 
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; 
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 
And love is loveliest when embalmed with tears.” 
