i 
THE POETRY 0? FLOWERS. 
91 
THE LITTLE RED ROSE. 
FROM GOETHE. 
A boy caught sight of a rose in a bower— 
A little rose slily hiding 
Among the boughs; O ! the rose was bright 
And young, and it glimmer’d like morning light. 
The urchin sought it with haste; ’twas a flower 
A child indeed might take pride in— 
A little rose, little rose, little red rose, 
Among the bushes hiding. 
The wild boy shouted—“ I’ll pluck thee, rose, 
Little rose vainly hiding 
Among the boughs;” but the little rose spoke— 
“ I’ll prick thee, and that will prove no joke; 
Unhurt, 0 then will I mock thy woes, 
Whilst thou thy folly art chiding.” 
Little rose, little rose, little red rose, 
Among the bushes hiding! 
But the rude boy laid his hands on the flower, 
The little rose vainly hiding 
Among the boughs; O, the rose was caught, 
But it turned again, and pricked and fought, 
And left with its spoiler a smart from that hour 
A pain for ever abiding; 
Little rose, little rose, little red rose, 
Among the bushes hiding! 
