THE ROSE.
AS the rose, unfolding in beauty rare,
Its fragrance breathed on the summer air,
From the cold, dark earth, from sun and shower,
Has silently gathered its precious dower,
So may we each, in our lowly place,
While the light of love and the dew of grace
Soft fall on the flowers of heavenly birth,
Unfold to gladden and bless the earth.
And when at eve the King we greet,
As he comes to gather spices sweet
From his garden fair, be ours to bring
Some fragrant, precious offering.
—Selected