76 DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 
THE MOSS ROSE. 
Milton concurs with the Bentiment, ‘ pleasure without alloy,* when he 
terms the elegant moss-rose < without thorn the rose.’ 
An anonymous writer thus sweetly sings in preference : — 
0, I love the sweet-blooming, the pretty moss-rose, 
’T is the type of true pleasure, and perfected joy; 
0, I envy each insect that dares to repose 
’Midst its leaves, or among its soft beauties to toy. 
I love the sweet lily, so pure and so pale, 
"With a bosom as fair as the new fallen snows; 
Her luxuriant odors she spreads through the vale, 
Yet e’en she must yield to my pretty moss-rose. 
0,1 love the gay heart’s-ease, and violet blue, 
The sun-flower and blue-bell, each flowret that 
blows; 
The fir tree, the pine tree, acacia, and yew, 
Yet e’en these must yield to my pretty moss-rose. 
Yes, I love my moss-rose, for it ne’er had a thorn, 
’T is the type of life’s pleasures, unmixed with its 
woes! 
’T is more gay, and more bright, than the opening 
morn — _ 
Yes, all things must yield to my pretty moss-rose. 
