Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/211



the rose of all flowers be the rarest That heaven may adore from above, And the fervent moss-rose be the fairest That sweetens the summer with love,

Can it be that a fairer than any Should blossom afar from the tree? Yet one, and a symbol of many, Shone sudden for eyes that could see.

In the grime and the gloom of November The bliss and the bloom of July Bade autumn rejoice and remember The balm of the blossoms gone by.