CHAPTER XVIII, 
How much of memory dwells amidst thy bloom, 
Rose ! ever wearing beauty for thy dower. 
The bridal day, the festival, the tomb, 
Thou hast thy part in each, thou stateliest flower! 
Therefore with thy soft breath come floating by 
A thousand images of love and grief, 
Dreams, filled with tokens of mortality, 
Deep thought of all things beautiful and brief. 
Mrs. Hemans. 
R. 
Ragged Robin . Wit. 
Ranunculus ... ... ... You are radiant with 
charms. 
