GATHERED ROSES.

ONLY a bee made prisoner,

Caught in a gathered rose !

Was he not 'ware, a flower so fair
For the first gatherer grows?

A WORM WITHIN THE ROSE

ROSE, but one, none other rose had I,
A rose, one rose, and this was wondrous fair,
One rose, a rose that gladdened earth and
sky,

One rose, my rose, that sweetened all my air-
I cared not for the thorns; the thorns were there.

One rose, a rose to gather by and by,

One rose, one rose, to gather and to wear,
No rose but one-what other rose had I?
One rose, my rose; a rose that will not die,—
He dies who loves it,-if the worm be there.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

LOVE.

O, the year's done with!
(Love me for ever!)
All March begun with,
April's endeavour ;

May-wreaths that bound me
June needs must sever;
Now snows fall round me,
Quenching June's fever-
(Love me for ever!)

ROBERT BROWNING.

TAY me no more; the flowers have ceased to

blow,

The frost begun;

Stay me no more; I will arise and go,
My dream is done.

My feet are set upon a sterner way,

And I must on;

Love, thou hast dwelt with me a summer day,

Now, Love, begone.

ERNEST MYERS.