THE ROSE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2410, 10 May 1900, Page 60

THE ROSE.

[This sweetly beautiful poem appeared anonymously in a (I think) Bostonian "journal called Harmony, devoted to music and literature, the editor making the comment that it stamped the author with having the true poetic instinct, even if he were never to write another Jino. Perhaps it may induce your young friends to take a greater interest in ever-present nature, and learn to love flowers for their own pure and beautiful sake.— L'.IRLANDAIS ]

" I am weary of the garden," Said the rose, "For the winter winds, are sighing, All my playmates round me dying, And my leaves will soon be lying 'Neath the snows. " But 1 hear my mistress coming," Said the rose. " She -will take me to my chamber, Where the honeysuckle clamber. And I'll bloom there all December, Spite of snows. " Sweeter fell her lily finger Than the bee. 'Ah! how feebly I resisted, Smoothed my thorns, and c'en assisted As, all blushing, I was twisted Off my tree. "And she fixed me in -her bosom Like a star; And I flashed there all the morning, * Jasmine, honeysuckle scorning, — Parasites for ever fawning, That they are ! "And when evening came, she sat mo In a. vase/ All of rare and radiant metal, And I felt her red lips settle On my leaves, till each proud petal Touched her face.

" And I shone about her slumber Like a light : And I said, instead of weeping, In the garden vigil keeping, Here I'll watch my mistress sleeping Every night. " But when morning with its sunbeams Softly shone, In the mirror where she braided Her brown hair, I saw how jaded, Old and colourless and faded I had grown.

" Not a drop of dew was on me, — > Never one : From my leaves no odour started — ■

All my perfume had departed, I lay pale and broken-hearted In the sun.

" Still," I said, " her smile is better Than the rain : Though my fragrance may forsake me, To her bosom she will take me, And with crimson kissefi make me Young again. "So she took me — gazed a second—Half a sigh: " 'Then, alas! — can hearts so harden?— Without ever asking pardon, .Threw me back into the garden, There to die!

" And the jealous garden gloried In my fall. How tb.6 honeysuckles chid me ; How the sneering jasmine 3 bid me Light the long, dark grass that hid ma Like a pall l

" There I lay beneath her window In a swoon, Till the earthworm o'er me trailing Woke me just at twilight failing, As the whip-poor-will was wailing To the moon.

'' But I hear the storm-winds slicing In their lair, And I know they soon will lift me In their great arms, and sift me Into ashes as they drift me Through the air.

" So I pray them in their mercy Jusfc to take From my heart of hearts, or near i% The last living leaf, and bear it To her feet, and bid her wear it For my sake!"

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