5 *^ 
d#~ 
* 
FLOWERS BY THE POETS 
ukDER THE ROSE. 
1 hey sat in the porch together, 
Angry and pale and still, 
And'\vatched, in gloomy silence, 
The moon rise ove'r the hill. 
The fault of the foolish quarrel 
If his or hers, who knows ? 
The strangest things will happen 
Under the rose ! 
A little stir; in’ the shadow 
Shook down a drsfp of dew, 
That, out of a bud half open, 
Pell just between the two. 
If both of them turned together 
With a sudden start, who knows ? ' 
There is many a little rustic 
Under the rose i 
He pulled from the vines at random 
A cluster over her head, 
Leaning a little nearer— 
To see if the rose was red ; 
If other roses reddened 
Within his reach, who knows 
One dare not say what happens 
Under the rose. 
Kate Putnam Osgood, 
