









POETRY OF 
Day hath no more glory, 
Though he soars so high ; | 
Thine is all man’s story, 
LIive—and love—and die! 
Barry Cornwall. 
THE ROSE. 
Emirt1a.—Of all flowers 
Methinks the rose is best. 
Srrvant.—Why, gentle madam? 
Emrria.—It is the very emblem ofa maid; 
For when the west wind courts her gently, 
How modestly she blows, and paints the sun 
With her chaste blushes! When the north 
comes near her 
Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, 
’ She locks her beauties in her bud again, | 
And leaves him to base briars. 
Beumont & Fuercuer. 
