THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
143 
THE CAPTIVE AND THE FLOWERS. 
FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. 
CAPTIVE. 
A flower that’s wondrous fair, I know, 
My bosom holds it dear; 
To seek that flower I long to go, 
But am imprison’d here. 
’Tis no light grief oppresses me ; 
For in the days my steps were free, 
I had it always near. 
Far round the tower I send mine eye 
The tower so steep and tall; 
But nowhere can the flower descry 
From this high castle wall; 
And him who’ll bring me my desire, 
Or be he knight, or be he squire, 
My dearest friend I’ll call. 
ROSE. 
My blossoms near thee I disclose, 
And hear thy wretched plight; 
Thou meanest me, no doubt, the rose 
Thou noble, hapless knight. 
A lofty mind in thee is seen, 
And in thy bosom reigns the queen 
Of flowers as is her right. 
