ROSE. 
Twine the rose, the garland twine, 
Every leaf distilling wine ; 
Drink and smile, and learn to think 
That we were born to smile and drink. 
Rose! thou art the sweetest flower 
That ever drank the amber shower ; 
Rose ! thou art the fondest child 
Of dimpled spring, the wood-nymph wild ! 
Even the gods who walk the sky 
Are amorous of thy scented sigh. 
Cupid too, in Paphian shades, 
His hair with rosy fillet braids. 
Then bring me showers of roses, bring, ° 
And shed them round me while I sing. 
THE MOSS ROSE. 
FROM THE GERMAN OF KRUMMACHER. 
THE Angel of the flowers one day, 
Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay ; 
That spirit to whose charge ’tis given 
To bathe young buds in dews of heaven ;— ° 
Awakening from his light repose, 
The Angel whispered to the Rose : 
“*O fondest object of my care, 
Still fairest found, where all are fair ; 
For the sweet shade thou giv’st to me, 
Ask what thou wilt, ’tis granted thee!” 
Then said the Rose, with deepened glow, 
“On me another grace bestow ;” 
5x 

