
THE GREEN-HOUSE ROSE. 


And always, one, himself. the same, 

A being far above a name. 

Draw nearer, then, and freely pour 

Forth all thy light into that hour 
Which was crowned with His birth, 


And made heaven envy earth. 
Let not His birth-day clouded be 
By whom thou shinest and we see. 



The Green-House Rose, 

Charlotte Smith. 

Pe early Rose, borne from her genial bower, 

Met the fond homage of admiring eyes, 

And while young Zephyr fanned the lovely flower, 


Nature and Art contended for the prize. 








Exulting Nature cried, “I made thee fair, 
’Twas I that nursed thy tender buds in dew; 


I gave thee fragrance to perfume the air, 


And stole from beauty’s cheek her blushing hue.” 



“Cease, goddess, cease,” indignant Art replied, 
“ And ere you triumph know that, but for me, 


This beauteous object of our mutual pride 


Had been no other than a vulgar tree. 





