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THE POETRY OF SLOWERS. 184 
THE MOSS-ROSE. 
BY JOHN STERLING. 
Mossy rose on mossy stone, 
Flowering ’mid the ruins lone, 
1 have learnt, beholding thee, 
Youth and Age may well agree. 
Baby germ of freshest hue, 
Out of ruin issuing new ; 
Moss a long laborious growth, 
And one stalk supporting both: 
Thus may still, while fades the past, 
Life come forth again as fast ; 
Happy if the relics sere 
Deck a cradle, not a bier. 
Tear the garb, the spirit flies, 
And the heart unshelter’d, dies ; 
Kall within the nursling flower, 
Scarce the grewn survives an hour. 
Ever thus together live, 
And to man a lesson give, 
Moss, the work of vanished yeara, 
Rose, that but to-day appears. 




