b'PRICE, 25 CENTS \n\n\n\nROSA. \n\n\n\nTHE QUEEN OF THE GARDEN \n\nAND HER \n\nPRETTY, LITTLE, RUSTIC \nMOTHER \n\nBY \n\nM. STOKER. \n\n\n\nA poem everj\'^ llovver is. \n\nAnd every leaf a line; \nAnd with delicious memories \n\nThey fill this heart of mine, * * \nO flowers of grace I bjess ye all \n\nBy the dear faces ye be call. \n\njtaines Russell Lorjell. \n\n\n\nNOV S8 ^898 \n\n\n\nROSA. \n\nTHE QUEEN OF THE GARDEN \n\nAND HER \n\nPRETTY, LITTLE, RUSTIC \nMOTHER \n\nBY \n\nMv-STOKER. \n\n\n\nI \n\n\n\nA p<jem ever}\' f ovver is. \n\nAnd every leaf a line; \nAnd with delicious memories \n\nThe}\' fill this heart of mine, * * \nO flowers of g-race I bless ve all \n\nB3\' the dear faces ye be call. \n\njfcuues Russell lf^ozvt-/I. \n\n\n\n)l\'\\\'i \n\n\n\n75 \n\n\n\n19B78 \n\n\n\nCot^vricfht ,8oS /-(\' .lA Siokrr. \n\n\n\n\n^_^.c^v--] \n\n\n\n\\. a . .4k \'^ tA <:i \n\n\n\nPREFACE. \n\nThe first desig-n was to publish this \nsmall work in its three parts tog-ether \xe2\x80\x94 \nviz: Rosa, The Wild Rose, and. The Ar- \ntificial Rose \xe2\x80\x94 but after matured consid- \neration, the author thoug-ht it better \nto publish the First and Second Parts, \nonly, and see how the Public received \nthem, before venturing- on the whole Work. \nSo that it stands thus \xe2\x80\x94 If the Public show \nencourag-ing- appreciation of the present \neffort. The Artificial Rose may appear in \ndue time. \n\n\n\n^> \n\n\n\nGosweetRosa! Isend thee smiling forth! \xe2\x80\x94 - \n\nSing- thy Makers praises on the earth; \n\nShow to a world by sin benighted \n\nHow by grace it may be lighted; \n\nShow thy God-given life \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFree from care and strife \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nCanre from above; \n\nShoot of Love \n\nWith fair face \n\nOf Grace \n\nHeaven \n\nGiven. \n\nGo, little Book! I send thee trembling forth! \nSpeak a word to people of the earth; \nShow Earth owns not the brightest day- \nBetter far is on the way; \xe2\x80\x94 \nLook ahead! Watch it come \xe2\x80\x94 \nFathers welcome home. \nWhere pleasures brim \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo stay with Him. \nAnd \xe2\x80\x94 sever? \nNo \xe2\x80\x94 never! \nEver! \nEver. \n\n\n\nROSA. \n\n\n\nAh! 3till depressed with dim and dew \xe2\x80\x94 but j\'et \na little while, and radiant with the deathless Rose, \nthe wilderness shall smile.\xe2\x80\x94 Jo /iti Ruskiu. \n\n\n\nThe Rose so sweet, all lov^e to meet; \n\nBoth Name and Fragrance own a claim; \nWell mig-ht one ask \xe2\x80\x94 "Were it as sweet, \n\nIf called by any other name?" \nIts blythesome Bloom \xe2\x80\x94 inviting-, fair \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWhen but half-blown, still courts the g-aze; \nIts nascent Bud, with crimson hair \n\nHolds sweet attractions in its face. \nAnd, by the g-org-iousness of dress \n\nThat fabled riches cannot buy \nIt does the cynic prepossess, \n\nAnd wins the most fastidious eye. \nIts scent bedews the thirsty air \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWith frag-rance fumes the nasal sense; \nThe richest and the poorest share \n\n\n\nRoi \n\n\n\nThe virtues which it does dispense. \nWell may it win with w^ide consent, \n\nThe appellation \xe2\x80\x94 "Queen of Flowers \xe2\x80\x94 \'" \nSo charming- from its first advent \n\nTill in the g"lory of its powers. \nBut still there\'s something- more to see \n\nThan what in Name or Look appears; \nOr falling- frag-rance \xe2\x80\x94 full and free \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat falls on all its presence nears: \nIts name is mellow \xe2\x80\x94 fine its face \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThoug-h frag-rance may attach the palm! \nBut when sugg^estion turns to g-race \n\nWhich to the soul indites a psalm \nThat lifts the thoug-hts to revel hig-h \n\nAnd meditate upon its King-; \nTo live awhile beyond the sky \n\nThen back to earth its g-lories bring- \xe2\x80\x94 \nPerfume must then take second place \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFor Heaven asserts the prior claim; \nAll \xe2\x80\x94 all must now submit to Grace \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe Frag-rance, Beauty and the Name. \nFor if these beauties that we see \n\n\n\nRosa. 7 \n\nBe but in truth reflected thing-s \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhat must that sea of beauty be \n\nThat down such g-race and splendor \nfling-s. \n\n11. \nWhere ever seen we like the Rose \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIn g-arden \xe2\x80\x94 hot-house \xe2\x80\x94 wild on dikes; \nAnd all it leads us to suppose \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThoug-h some may differ in their likes. \nSome like it for its pretty looks, \n\nAnd others for its pleasant smell; \nWe like it thus \xe2\x80\x94 more! as a book \n\nIn which our Father\'s name we spell. \nSome like it for its crimson brow \n\nWhile others choose its fainter red; \nBut these to us! come hinting- how \n\nGod signals from its florid head. \nThen some may like its creamy hues, \n\nAnd some may prize its snowy white; \nWe both admire! as each renews \n\nAnd deepens thoug:hts of purer lig-ht. \nSome like its varig-ated tints, \n\n\n\n8 Rosa, \n\nAnd some its petals own but one; \nWe like them both, for both show points \n\nOf footsteps that before have gone. \nSome like it for its perfect leaves - \n\nAnd full-blown! for the space it fills; \nSo we! for here, our faith perceives \n\nPerfection, as its Author wills. \nStill, some prefer its half-blown state; \n\nThey think it speaks for longer life; \nYet so uncertain! G, why wait \n\nFor grace, when Death is rough and rife? \nAll must admire its tiny Bud \n\nThat slyly on its calix steals; \nAnd this reminds of Higher Good! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe hand that for the frailest feels. \n\nIII. \nWe\'ve seen the Rose in perfect state; \n\nBehold it now in crippled age! \nIts leaves are falling, soon and late, \n\n\'Tis passing through its final stage. \nIt safely passed its Budding time. \n\nAnd passed the Bloom of riper age; \n\n\n\nRosa. g \n\nIt reached the utmost of its prime! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIs falling- now, as falls the sage. \nAnd, here, it gravely brings us home; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAsks \xe2\x80\x94 "What\'s the end of longest life? \nWhat do the zc/ses/, best become \n\nBut victims of a common knife?" \nWe\'ve seen it in its half-blown form, \n\nAnd posing as a robust flower; \nWe saw the blackness of a storm! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIt passed away in one short hour \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd, now, again! the thought comes home: \n\n"What are the strongest forms of life? \nThe surest live?\'! may become \n\nThe victim of this common knife." \nWe\'ve seen it in its budding days \n\nJust as it opened into life; \nAnd seen it face the burning rays \n\nTo fall a hero in the strife \xe2\x80\x94 \nIn this we see the smiling babe \n\nOn others cast its care of life; \nLife\'s smallest form of astrolabe \n\nFalls victim to this common knife. \n\n\n\nlo \\Rosa. \n\nIV. \n\nWe now observe the falling- leaves \n\nOf blossom, bud, and semi-bloom \nAs each with other interweaves \n\nAnd all at last one level own. \nThey speak a common Lang-uag-e all, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd certain end of all that\'s seen; \nThe Buds, the Blooms, the Blossoms fall, \n\nAnd are as if they\'d never been. \nIn this we see a common Hithe \n\nWhere intermix all human forms; \nAll driven by the sweeping- scythe \n\nIn one or other of the storms. \nWhatever made them once to differ \n\nThere is no speck of difference now; \nHave all passed throug-h the same dark \nRiver \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd level lies each pallid brow. \nV. \nThese leaves emit a f rag-rance still \n\nThat even Death does not destroy; \nIt spreads to every corner fill \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nRosa. II \n\nTo all around a source of jo}^ \nAnd here another thoug-ht comes home, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n"What shall our Dust and Ashes speak? \nShall frag-rance come from out the tomb, \n\nOr deadly fumes from out it reek? \nShall useful deeds the tale narrate \n\nWhich by the living- may be read \xe2\x80\x94 \nShow virtue blooms in every state \n\nAnd speaks! although its owner\'s dead? \nOr shall the direr deads of death \n\nAll g-ifted with the powers of speech \nHold forth to taint the purer breath \n\nWhich in its foulest forms may reach?\'\' \nThe Evil speaks as well as Good \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThis matter Dust no more controlls; \nThe man of God \xe2\x80\x94 of sin and blood \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIs saving- still, or damming* souls. \n\nVL \n\nWhile decomposing by decay \n\nThey seem to yield a sweeter scent; \n\nIn perfume fret themselves awa}^ \xe2\x80\x94 \nTheir atoms are for others spent. \n\n\n\n12 Rosa. \n\nAnd this a further thought may give \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThough it may savor of a dream \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe godly who have ceased to live \n\nTheir atoms vie \xe2\x80\x94 ^as it would seem \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo send a perfume wider far \n\nThan that attained by vocal sound; \nThough Death does liv-ing efforts bar \n\nThe Good once done does more abound. \nAnd still this has another side \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIf we the Truth do not divert\xe2\x80\x94 \nThe evil done does still abide! \n\nNor any less itself assert; \nBut fumes increase, in size and strength, \n\nSpread through the moral atmosphere; \nAnd seeming get indeed at length \n\nTo threaten all the good that\'s here. \nVIT. \nAnd now we note the careful hand \n\nThat leaf and leaflet, puts in place; \nThe worthless \xe2\x80\x94 ^how it does disband \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe worthy \xe2\x80\x94 softly in the vase. \nAnd still, once more, the thought comes \nhome, \n\n\n\nRosa. I J \n\nWith plainer, clearer, strong-er force; \n"Where shall the Hand provide me room? \n\nWhat shall the Judg-ment Day endorse? \nShall I be g-athered by the Hand \n\nAnd placed away from coming- grief? \nOr, shall I by a fell command \n\nBe driven like a blasted leaf?" \n\nVHI. \nSweet Rose! sweet Emblem of pure love, \n\nOf innocence and moral g-ood; \nSugg-estive of that from above \n\nThat comes by way of Saving- Blood \xe2\x80\x94 \nWho ever was so pure as He \n\nWhose spotless life perfumes the world; \nWhose teach ing-s over land and sea \n\nThe purest sentiments unfurled? \nWe sometimes see the handsome Rose \n\nConsig-ned to face the seething- still\xe2\x80\x94 \nThe victim, as it were, of foes, \n\nAnd forced to serve a g-reedy will- \nRobbed of its rich and pleasing- dress \n\nAnd driven to its final doom; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\ni/f. Rosa. \n\nYet! in its death, does others bless \xe2\x80\x94 - \n\nIt breathes its last in sweet perfume. \nAnd this reminds us of the One \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat perfect One who died to save; \n"Who in His death did sin atone \n\nThat all mig-ht free salvation have. \nDied not Himself to suit or bless; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFor others sake He sunk and died; \nTo clothe \xe2\x80\x94 perfume \xe2\x80\x94 with rig-hteousness \n\nThis Heaven-born was crucified. \n\nIX \n\nNow, here\'s the Otto of the Rose! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe Essence bottled up with care, \nIn waiting- to itself improve \n\nOn all who would its sweetness share. \nAnd, this reminds us of our Lord \n\nWho stands before His Father\'s throne; \nThe Essence of the Holy Word \n\nWhose rich annointing- all may own. \nThe frag-rance from the courts above \n\nSpreads perfume over all the race; \nThe Spirit through the Saviour\'s love \n\n\n\nRosa. /J \n\nAbounds in offices of grace \nTo disinfect the deadly fume; \n\nTo drive away the stench of sin; \nTo ease aside the hanging- doom, \n\nAnd bring a blessed prospect in. \nOn high this Otto\'s stored with care, \n\nSafe in the Saints Eternal Rest; \nThis Saving Essence all may share \n\nWhen with His perfect presence blest. \nFor here the saints their Master know; \n\nUp there they\'l feel His warm embrace; \nWhen done with earth, to Him they go, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nTriumphant trophies of His grace. \n\nX. \n\nThis sweet, compact, all lovely Rose \n\nHas lost its fabric, form and bloom; \nYet in its death, and final throws \n\nBequeaths its spoilers sweet perfume. \nThe seething Fluid owns its presence; \n\nIt breathes a fragrance on its crest, \nThen passes into sweet quiessence \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIt never did nor will molest. \n\n\n\n1 6 Rosa. \n\nIts lovely Otto, sent away, \n\nHas entered on its own estate; \xe2\x80\x94 \nBut, still a lino-ering- love does stay \n\nTo languid senses \'vig-erate; \nWe have the sweet Rose-water left \n\nTo lend its fragrance to the nose; \nThoug-h, of the Rose itself bereft! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWe have the comfort of the Rose. \nAnd, oh! how^ much this does remind \n\nOf Him whose life and death was spent \nThat He might leave for foes behind \n\nThe fragrance of the sweetest scent. \nNo malace at His death was found; \n\nNo bitterness against His foes; \nIn death as in His life abound \n\nThe virtues of the Perfect Rose. \nWhile in the midst of seething heat \n\nAnd forced about from place to place \nHe was but seeking to complete \n\nThe blessed plan of saving grace. \nIn kindly, words and loving ways \n\nHe w^ould the seething w^orld perfume; \n\n\n\nRosa. ij \n\nAnd left behind the scented rays \n\nThat perfumes death andlig-hts the tomb. \nXL \nThe careless crowd but littJe know \n\nWhile sinning- on with bated breath \nHow much to Jesus Christ they owe \n\nFor blessing-s coming- throug-h His death. \nBlessing-s a sinful race possess \n\nWhich oug-ht to lead to God above \nAuthor of Truth and rig-hteousness, \n\nAnd origin of Saving- love. \nAll that is lovel}^ to behold \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAll that is rig-ht on earth we know, \nHis zvisdoni did it all unfold, \n\nHis death did all on us bestow. \n\nXH. \nAnd then ag-ain, this lonesome Rose \n\nSo clean and sweet to look upon. \nIn other wavs it never chose \n\nIs made to wilt and look beg-one. \nHow often is this flower placed \n\nWhere foul contaminations lurk \n\n\n\nt8 Rosa. \n\nTill loveliness is all defaced \n\nAnd fragrance fails to do its work? \nIs taken from its place of rest, \n\nWhere many see and much admire; \nAnd where it looks its very best \n\nIn g-raceful form and rich attire; \nIs rudely from position torn \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd forced into position mean \nJust that it may be vainly worn, \n\nOr brig^hten up a doubtful scene. \nIn meanest places made to go\\ \n\nTo don the dance \xe2\x80\x94 ^pay court to song- \nTill all its g-lory and its show \n\nFall victims to the seeming- wrong-. \nAnd does this not ag-ain remind \n\nOf human Roses, brig-ht and fair, \nThe choicest often of their kind \n\nWhich do a like transition share. \nFor oh! how oft a virg-in Rose \n\nAll g-uileless in her lovely smiles, \nThat would not wrong- herself suppose \n\nNor dream of others usinof wiles, \n\n\n\nRosa, ig \n\nHiis by degrees become bereft \n\nOf all her g-race and sweet perfume \nAnd in the end but meanly left \n\nTo grapple with her downward doom? \nHow many tales there could be told \n\nOf Roses sweet as ever bloomed \nThat in the gutter has been rolled \n\nAnd down to deepest folly doomed; \nTo live to lives of others foil^ \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nTo fell destruction others win; \nWith vice and shame their own despoil \n\nAnd court a living death by sin. \nHow often too a noble youth \n\nSeduced by cunning, sinful wile; \nLed by impertinent untruth \n\nTill ruin ends a luring- smile; \xe2\x80\x94 \nWith life and fortune wrecked and lost, \n\nAnd stranded like a broken ship \nTo find how dreadful is the cost \n\nWhen harlots do their victims strip. \nNot only is the money gone. \n\nBut something- money cannot buy; \n\n\n\n20 Rosa. \n\nThe character he rests upon \n\nWhich leaves unlit to live or die. \nHe then in turn becomes a bane \n\nTo leaven up corrupt desire; \nTo further deepen sin\'s vile stain \n\nAnd spread abroad unholy fire. \nThus, so doth seething- sin outspread \n\nAnd parmiate a wanton race, \nTill Death and Hell possess no dread \n\nBut Wanton Sin will dare to face. \n\nxm. \n\nAnd then again, we see the Rose \n\nHurled from its native home, so fair; \nTorn from its sweet, select repose \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWith bitter herbs its future share; \nSometimes as servant to the sick, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSometimes with fickle friends to roam; \nSometimes a smile \xe2\x80\x94 sometimes a kick! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBut never more returns to home. \nAnd this seems to remind us, too. \n\nHow often circumstances change; \nHow often have the well-to-do \n\n\n\nRosa. 21 \n\nWith meanest thing-sthemselves arrange; \nAnd, just a pittance can obtain \n\nTo soul and body hold tog-ether; \nMust bear the loss \xe2\x80\x94 the mental pain \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd face the World\'s cold wind and \nweather. \nHurled from selections\' social height \n\nInto a rude and mottly crowd; \nWith choicest prospects disunite \n\nTo live beneath a rhnless cloud. \nAnd thus they live and end their days, \n\nAnd often fill a pauper\'s tomb; \nStay here, or there, \xe2\x80\x94 or any place!^ \xe2\x80\x94 \xe2\x96\xa0 \n\nBut never more! return to home. \nIf from this depth they cannot see \n\nThe g-uiding Hand, thats all in all,^ \nAnd, prospect in Eternity! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThey\'ve dreadful losers by the/^///. \nBut if th^ fall but bring- around \n\nA nearness to their God and King-, \nThey shall in hig-her joys abound \n\nThan any earthly riches bring-. \n\n\n\n22 Rosa. \n\nXIV. \n\nHow blessed is the pleasing- fact \n\nThat to the vilest grace abounds; \nFor all the sinful ways men act, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nYet mercy throug-h God\'s love redounds. \nIt was for si)nic?\'s Jesus died,\xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd, sinners He invites to come; \nWas for the vilest crucified \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFor meanest hlood-zuashed makes a home. \nThe lowest may be raised and saved, \n\nThe foulest free sweet cleansing- know; \nRelinquish sin \xe2\x80\x94 be rig-ht-behaved, \n\nLet throug-h the life God\'s g-oodness flow-- \nThen all the past is ever g\'one, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBehind His back forever cast! \nWhile Christ, the Truth, is rested on \n\nHow can sin any long-er last. \nFor life, or death, all now is right; \n\nPeace, joy, and comfort, fill the soul; \nEarth\'s journey brig-ht with Heaven\'s lig-ht- \n\nThe Holy Spirit in control. \n\n\n\nRosa, 2j \n\nXV. \n\nGod knows His own! In every case \n\nHe watches over them with care; \nBestows the all-sufficient grace, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIn every trouble takes His share. \nHe knows their hopes \xe2\x80\x94 forecasts their \nfears, \n\nAnd marks each step along- the wav; \nHe knows, the time to wipe the tears! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nJust when to brighten up the day. \nHe sees the chilly hand of Death \n\nAs it comes stealing for its prey; \nThe moment that it stops the breath, \n\nAnd turns the living form to clay. \nHe knows each hillock made of dust, \n\nAnd whether it conceal a Rose, \nOr but formation of a crust \n\nThat hides! \xe2\x80\x94 God but himself but knows. \nHe knows each distinct blade of grass \n\nThat grows to shade the righteous dust \nFrom what conceals the putrid mass \n\nThat died the victim of its lust. \n\n\n\n2^ Rosa. \n\nKnows well the purer dust of Rose; \n\nIts very atoms all are told; \nUnlike the chaffy dust that blows! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\'Tis of the dust of purest g"old. \nWe write the g-lowing- Epitaph \n\nThat speaks the virtues of the Rose, \nWhen well we know% it was but chaff! \n\nOf which we really did dispose; \nThat were the Truth allowed to speak, \n\nAnd facts assume a rig^htful place, \nA stench would come from out the leak \n\nNo Eleg-}" would dare to face. \nAnd Tablets stand in sacred walls \n\nTo publish Goodness \xe2\x80\x94 hue and cry- \nBut oft\' we find One loudly bawls \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\'\'A most unwarrantable lie!" \nBut looking- to the Hig-her Home, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat hio-h, eternal, saints delig-ht, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe christian overlooks the iomh \n\nWith such a prospect, full in sight. \nGod\'s saints are perfumed by His Truth, \n\nAnd follow up the source of scent; \n\n\n\nRosa. 2^ \n\nThe gracious words from out His mouth, \n\nAre comforting* as they were meant. \nLong-ing- and waiting for the Rest \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe rest that does for them remain; \nAll satisfied \xe2\x80\x94 as if possessed^ \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThey shall this Blessed Rest obtain. \nThey value not the epitaph, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWith Earth\'s uncircumcised to vie; \nThe World may count them wheat or \nchaff\xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThey count themselves with Him onhig-h. \nThey live not for the toys of time \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nEarth\'s honors! as to life or death; \nBut honors g^reater \xe2\x80\x94 more sublime! \n\nAre hang-ing- on their final breath. \nThe g"lory of their upper home \n\nReflects its lustre on the soul; \nThe mansion in their Father\'s dome \n\nGrows brig-hter with the nearing g-oal. \nO come Thou Fount of every blessing-! \n\nMore with Thyself surcharg-e each spirit \nWith love returning- \xe2\x80\x94 effervesing-! \n\nMav all forever own Thy merit. \n\n\n\n26 Rosa. \n\n\n\nWe\'ve viewed this noble Rose apace\xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd, doubtless much these notes omit; \n\nTwo others now request a place \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe Wild One and the Counterfeit. \n\n\n\nThe wild-rose, \n\n\n\nHail! to that pretty, little Rose \n\nThat fills a common way-side place \n\nAnd beaming- \xe2\x80\x94 as she sweetly blows, \nHer lovely lessons, as to grace. \n\nSo sweet and quiet, chaste and fair. \nAnd winning to the eye and mind; \n\nHer fragrance fills the balmy air \xe2\x80\x94 \nShe floats her perfume on the wind. \n\nThough little, common, rustic, wild, \nAnd seldom or but little known \n\nThe one just seen is but her child \xe2\x80\x94 \nThough Education lends her tone; \n\nShe\'s had her training \xe2\x80\x94 been at school- \nHas got her better dress and style; \n\nShe has improved by care and rule, \nAnd now she wears a broader smile. \n\nHas mingled with the busy crowd; \nHer social circle has been great; \n\n\n\n28 Rosa. \n\nWith this she seems to look so proud! \xe2\x80\x94 \nHer humble parent would berate. \n\nBut is she sweeter in her look? \n\nOr does she wear a sweeter smile \n\nThan that brlg-ht mother in the nook \n\nThat\'s humbly stayed at home the while? \nJust here we may a thought derive; \n\nAnd take this lesson as we g-o \nHow parents oft a lifetim.e strive \n\nToon their children g-ood bestow; \nTo raise them to a higher place \n\nWhere they can feed from bettershelves, \nAnd often in most anxious ways \n\nTo this accomplish, sink themselves; \nOft make the contrast so immense \n\nTheir children in their pride look down- \nConsider of no consequence, \n\nAnd on their social standing frown. \nForget the pit from which they came!- \xe2\x80\x94 \xe2\x80\xa2 \n\nDug out by parents tireless spade, \nWith all they know, they know no shame \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nRosa. 2g \n\nThoug-h shame deep stamps their com- \nmon grade. \nDisgrace attend such ill return! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHig"h Heaven does endorse the same! \xe2\x80\x94 \nLet burning- shame their spirits burn \n\nTill rightness move such cursed blame. \n\nII. \nWe love that little rustic Rose \n\nWhich on her prickles calmly rests; \xe2\x80\x94 \nThat on the humble birds, bestows \n\nHer fragrance, while they build their \nnests. \nShe shows our lives may frag-rance give \n\nAnd spread an influence others need; \nThroug-h prickly persecution live, \n\nAnd calmly with our work proceed. \nReminds us of that Rose so fair \n\nWhose petals op\'ed on Sharon\'s plain; \nThat spread a fragrance, wide as air, \n\nAnd poured it like diffusive rain. \nIt bloomed that others might be blessed \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBut was by others rudely bruised; \n\n\n\nJO Rosa. \n\nThe rougher \\i became compressed! \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe fragrance more and more suffused. \n\nIII. \nJust see those smiles when friends have \ncome \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe Butterfly and Bumblebee; \nThe harmless flirting- \xe2\x80\x94 bum and hum \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThen flying off in cherished g-lee. \nHer friend the workman comes along- \n\nWith all his fusy airs and skips; \nHe hums a little pleasing song". \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd steals the sweetness from her lips. \nAnd this a lesson would sug-g-est \n\nWhich many would do well to heed, \nThat younger people may be blest \n\nBy kindness both in word and deed. \n*\'When little children are around \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBe kind to them" it seems to say; \n\'*To treat them mean, blush to be found, \n\nWhile they indulge in harmless play." \nIt seems to ask in doubtful speach. \n\nAnd measured accents\' tardy drips; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nRosa. JT \n\n\'*When children come within your reach, \xe2\x80\x94 \nDo they find sweetness on you)\' lips?" \n\nIV. \nHow lovely this sug-g"estive Rose \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHow much from her small life we learn; \nSo much to emulate she shows \n\nIf we could rig-htly but discern. \nIt would our life with g-ood endow, \n\nOur peace would as a river flow; \nWould show the happy secret how \n\nWe could in every virtue g-row \xe2\x80\x94 \nThink, if we find her in her tears \n\nThe pleasing- smile still plays around; \nIn seeming- g-rief her sweetness cheers, \n\nWhich by the strang-er may be found. \nHow like her Maker, in His love \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHis rain falls on the bad and g-ood; \nOn both his sun shines from above, \n\nAnd both are fed with His kind food. \nAnd does this not a thoug-ht convey^ \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nChoice lesson for our daily walk \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo ever hold a kindly way, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\n^2 Rosa. \n\nA kindly hand \xe2\x80\x94 a kindly talk; \nAnd, even when in pressing- grief, \n\nWhen trouble weig-hs and sorrow pains \nThat we may never seek relief \n\nBut in what Christ-like g^race maintains. \nNot vent on others bitter spleen, \n\nAnd in an ang-ry mood proclaim; \nThey may not know just what we mean^ \n\nBut feel the hurting- just the same. \n\'Tis sad \xe2\x80\x94 yea! even sad indeed! \n\nThat christians in the furnace tried, \nSo ill in many ways proceed \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nNo g-race perfumes their bed beside. \nThey twist, and twine, aud trouble shed, \n\nWhile all within themselves repine; \nWe ask! what means that Furnace-bed? \n\nCan it a christian such refine? \nSad case of Grace \xe2\x80\x94 ^refinement, this! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nDross can but take a strong-er hold; \nThe Son deig-ns not with such to kiss; \n\nHas no place for them in His fold \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe World observes their dearth of g-race; \n\n\n\nRosa. 33 \n\nIt often there produces grief; \nAttendents hate to near the place, \nAnd brand th^ir faith as mock belief. \n\nWhat speaks so much as painful-calm \n\nAs it appeals to feeling- eyes? \nThat resig-nation, when a qualm \n\nIts further sickly hand applies? \nIt seems to say \xe2\x80\x94 "God\'s will be done! \n\nHis w^ill in all thing-s I prefer; \nIn all my pain, I see the Son; \n\nHe loves me, still! why, should I care? \nI feel this furnace is to fine. \n\nAnd fit me for a better life; \nTo more to good my heart incline; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nTo lesson care in worldly strife. \nAnd as my body weaker g-rows. \n\nMy soul g-rows strong-er with His g-race; \nMy faith, so settled, \xe2\x80\x94 sweetly knows \n\nThat I shall soon behold his face. \nI see my mansion in the skies. \n\nJust as He said he would prepare; \nTriumphant! I shall take the prize, \n\n\n\nJ/ Rosa. \n\nWith His \'well done\' apportioned there. \n\nAnd should He in His love upraise \xe2\x80\x94 \xe2\x96\xa0 \n\nThe tennor of my life extend, \nWhat can I do but further praise, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd all my ransomed powers bend \nTo spread abroad His gracious name, \n\nAnd tell how good and kind He is; \nThat others may accept the same \n\nAnd learn this joy and comfort His." \nV. \nThis little lovely Rose, so sweet, \n\nEnjoys a life of floral bliss; \nOld Sol stoops down with warmth to greet, \n\nAnd on her petals leaves a kiss; \nAnd she responds with lovesome smile \xe2\x80\x94 - \n\nShe beams her beauty in his face; \nAnd kind environment the while \n\nBut only seeks to aid her grace. \nContentment is her shibboleth \n\nShe has the fount of life within; \nShe travels by a lowlv path. \n\nAnd there she does her conquests win. \n\n\n\nRosa. 33 \n\nIs satisfied with simple fare; \n\nNo thirsting- for what others hold; \nNo trouble, toil, nor anxious care \nNor morbid hunger after gold. \nYet! she is gay, and sweet, and clean; \n\nHas all her little life requires; \nLives for the most in peace serene \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd honors Him her life inspires. \nShe envies not her high relations. \n\nWho may be greater, richer, too; \nShe troubles not with others stations \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIt is with God she has to do. \nAnd whether in her infant days \n\nShe may be torn by some rough blast,\xe2\x80\x94 \nOr live to tender rich displays \n\nWith sturdy trials in the past, \nOr live to see perfection\'s age \n\nBefore she kiss the verdent sod \xe2\x80\x94 \nShe is the same in every stage; \n\nShe lives in God, and dies in God. \nShe is Gods creature \xe2\x80\x94 made by Him; \nHer life has purpose, like our own; \n\n\n\nj6 Rosa, \n\nAnd as she sits, so sweet and prim, \nObeys her Maker on the throne. \n\nGives g\'lory to the Lord supreme; \nActs as His lawful mandates bid; \n\nAt one with that unwritten scheme, \nAnd Him in whom her life is hid. \n\nAnd, here, a lesson comes along- \n\nFrom which but fools would dare to \ndrift\xe2\x80\x94 \n"The battle is not to the strong"! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe race not always to the swift." \nBut those who trust to God\'s g-ood g-race, \n\nAnd lean not on uncertain thing\'s; \nStake all their life on what He says. \n\nAnd to the issue that it bring-s, \nMay safely rest \xe2\x80\x94 if oug-ht be sure \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHis Word is g-ood for all it claims; \nTheir present, future, is secure, \n\nAnd all the blessing- that it names. \nBesides, there does a curse attach \n\nTo him who makes 7ne7\'e flesh his stay; \nHe soon must more than meet his match. \n\n\n\nRosa, J 7 \n\nAnd fall a victim to dismay. \nWith stroug- reproof the lesson comes \n\nTo check a foolish, futile worry; \nAsks, why some entertain wh^t dooms \n\nThe soul to always feeling- sorry \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd that without one comfort bring-ing* \n\nTo calm the undulating- breast, \xe2\x80\x94 \nBut ever doleful dirg\'es sing-ing- \n\nTo sink it deeper in unrest? \nIt, also, bringfs a lovesome lay, \n\nAnd bears along- a cheery charm; \nDoes to the sad^ in kindness say, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n*\'Good fellow! do thyself no harm;" \nFor God, but only means thy good. \n\nIntends thy truest happiness; \nTo clothe, and feed with proper food. \n\nAnd save thee from unwise distress. \nObserve the fowls \xe2\x80\x94 -what care they for? \n\nThey sow not, neither do they reap; \nNor gather into barn or store! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nYet, God, the little creatures keep. \nAnd note the lilies \xe2\x80\x94 ^How they grow!^ \n\n\n\nj8 Rosa. \n\nThey toll not, neither do they spin; \nYet, see that superb, g-orgious show! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWhat art can such perfection win? \nNo beaut}^ known to fabled story, \n\nThat wildest fancy paints to please \xe2\x80\x94 \nNor Solomon in all his g\'lory \n\nWas ever dressed like one of these. \nWherefore if <^od so clothe the g-rass \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWith life so transcient \xe2\x80\x94 of the field; \nHere to-day! to-morrow \xe2\x80\x94 alas! \n\nDoes to the burning oven yield \xe2\x80\x94 \nHow much more does He grant supplies \n\nTo them who trust to what He saith? \nThe trusting soul He satisfies! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nKnow that! "O ye of little faith." \nAnd what\'s the use of all your thought? \n\nHow ill repaid is all your care; \nWhat do you find of all that\'s sought \n\nBeyond a common daily fare? \nThree meals a day is all you need \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe plainer better for your health; \xe2\x80\x94 \nCan God not manage this indeed! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nWithout your worry after wealth? \nOr even after nearer things \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe daily things that dog the life; \xe2\x80\x94 \nGod through the saddest troubles brings \n\nA peace that octracises strife. \nBut calmly rest upon His word; \n\nBe truly thankful for your fare; \nLay all your care upon the Lord, \n\nAnd tell Him, you are done with care! \nIn exchange comes a perfect peace, \n\nAnd joy that leaves the world outside; \nA conscious, clear, and sure release \n\nFrom ail that can with harm betide. \n\nVI. \n\nNow, who could think a ruthless hand \n\nWould seize that little harmless Rose; \nBy force of strength its future strand \n\nAnd of its lovesome life dispose? \nBut, see! that rustic swain appear \n\nWith busy eye that lacks control; \nHe takes it off, in spite of tear. \n\nTo grace his clownish buttonhole; \n\n\n\n40 \n\n\n\nRosa, \n\n\n\nAnd forces from its parent home \n\nAnd all its native purity \nTo g-o wherever he may roam \n\nAnd share a mean futurity. \nOr when his fickle mind may chang-e \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWhich from its nature often must, \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo g-o adrift alone, to range! \n\nOr else be trampled in the dust. \nAnd this a dreadful notion lends! \n\nReminds us how some yield to strength \nWhich oft abuses, then, amends! \n\nBy casting far adrift, at length; \nFirst baiting with angelic smiles \n\nThat might an angel onward beck, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThen outvie demons in mean wiles. \n\nTo purest forms of nature wreck. \nTo worse than do a killing crime \n\nWhich lawless passion prompts apace, \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd still expect their names to rime. \n\nWith those who act in prudent ways \nWho will a Social brand devise \n\nWith which to mark the biped-snake? \n\n\n\nRosa. 41 \n\nWhen will the prudent ostracise \n\nThe more than half suspected Rake? \nVII. \nAnd what about that lonely Rose? \n\nThat human e3^es have never seen; \nThat dies in desert where it blows \n\nAnd drops its ashes on the g-reen? \nAre there no eyes that see it there \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nNone to observe its quaint display? \nNay! ang-els sip the nectar rare! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThey kiss its little life away. \nAnd, so, we see that little Dot, \n\nThat\'s barely breathed of earthly air, \nRefusing- this sublunar lot \n\nThat it may with the ang-els fare. \nWe really have not seen the Rose \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe pearl within that sweetly lav; \nThe ang-els watched its leaves disclose \n\nAnd kissed the little life awa}^. \nVIII. \nAnd, thus, we find the unique Rose \n\nAll rounded by its Gifts and Graces; \n\n\n\n^2 Rosa. \n\nBut he, alone, who lofty g-oes \n\nCan comprehend its noblest phases. \nHow sad, indeed, it is for those \n\nWho never hig-her thing\'s explore \xe2\x80\x94 \nTheir eyes behold a pretty Rose! \n\nThat covers all \xe2\x80\x94 they see no more. \nAnd surely it is sadder still, \n\nIf oug-ht the other can enhance \xe2\x80\x94 \nIs he that dares Almig-hty will! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd calls it but a thing- of chance. \nOh that the higher sense may fall \n\nAnd through the Darkness, Light dis- \nclose \nTo all the Saviour, all in all, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAnd seen in thorn as well as Rose. \n\n\n\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS \n\n\n\n\n'