108 
ROSE. 
Lift up thy head above thy earthly dwelling, 
Daughter of heaven ! 
Wake! for the watery elouds are all dispersing! 
Zephyr invites thee: frosts and snows of winter 
All are departed; and Favonian breezes 
Welcome thee, smiling. 
ON AN EARLY ROSE, 
ANON. 
Sweet Rose, whom early showers 
Have kindly, fondly nurst: 
I love thy leaves of red, 
For from fair Flora’s bed 
Thou lift’st thy modest, head, 
Sweet Rose—the First. 
What spell is in that word, 
The First! the primal one: 
Oh! wherefore loves to stray 
The mind to pleasure’s day, 
And count in life’s pathway 
The sweets that shone! 
Is it because of joys 
Long since like dreams are fled, 
Though each had rapture in it, 
None had that charm within it, 
As when that First —First minute. 
Their sweets were shed? 
