THE
ROSE
TREE
AND
THE
POPPY
.
A
FABLE
.
Deep
in
a
lone
sequester'd
grove
A
beauteous
Rose-tree
grew
;
It's
blossoms
breath'd
perfume
as
fresh
As
morn's
ambrosial
dew
.
Each
spreading
branch
luxuriant
strew'd
The
verdant
turf
below
,
And
high
it's
blooming
head
it
rear'd
,
And
made
a
lovely
shew
.
Yet
not
it's
flowers
of
choicest
hue
,
It's
branches
spreading
wide
,
It's
lofty
head
or
rich
perfume
Provok'd
one
spark
of
pride
.
Humbly
to
every
breeze
it
bow'd
,
That
gently
fann'd
each
tree
,
And
courteously
dispens'd
it's
sweets
To
the
industrious
bee
.
Near
to
it's
mossy
stem
there
sprung
A
flower
spontaneous-bred
,
A
single
Poppy
,
'twas
no
more
,
It's
hue
a
vivid
red
.
With
envy
fir'd
,
the
Poppy
cried
—
Your
boughs
exclude
the
light
,
Your
smell
affects
my
head
,
in
short
,
You're
odious
to
my
sight
.
Your
shatter'd
leaves
bestrew
the
ground
,
Your
dew-drops
fall
like
tears
,
Your
straggling
buds
grow
wild
and
rude
,
Your
thorns
alarm
my
fears
.
What
tho'
you
deck
Belinda's
breast
,
Or
twine
in
Delia's
hair
,
You
never
long
enjoy
your
bliss
,
But
droop
and
wither
there
.
What
tho'
the
painter
may
compare
Your
tints
with
Chloe's
bloom
,
Or
poet
madly
may
exclaim
,
Her
breath
is
your
perfume
.
Such
flattering
rhapsodies
may
plant
Sharp
thorns
in
Chloe's
breast
,
Like
those
that
arm
thy
venom'd
stalk
,
And
rob
her
mind
of
rest
.
Whilst
I
am
known
of
sovereign
power
To
calm
the
aching
sense
,
So
soporific
is
my
juice
,
Such
peace
can
I
dispense
.
'Tis
I
can
lull
the
monarch's
care
,
I
blunt
the
edge
of
pain
;
Then
say
,
thou
splendid
trifling
shrub
,
If
I
am
born
in
vain
.
But
thou
with
indolence
supine
,
In
garden
or
in
grove
,
Art
only
form'd
to
be
the
food
Of
poetry
and
love
.
But
that
I
longer
scorn
to
plead
,
Or
half
your
faults
relate
,
Else
could
I
tell
how
oft
you've
caus'd
Commotions
in
the
state
;
Commotions
of
the
deepest
dye
,
With
your
own
kindred
bred
;
Witness
the
well
known
feuds
betwixt
The
White-rose
and
the
Red
.
Such
rebel
livery
I
disdain
,
Tho'
white
as
purest
snow
;
You're
only
in
false
colouring
drest
To
strike
the
deadlier
blow
.
The
Poppy
paus'd
—
when
thus
the
Rose
In
accent
mild
replied
:
Ah
!
let
us
not
in
contest
try
What
we
can
ne'er
decide
.
Know
that
'tis
Providence
bestows
To
each
it's
proper
share
;
Thus
you
receive
a
healing
power
,
Whilst
I
may
be
more
fair
.
Then
let
us
each
our
lot
receive
,
And
thankfully
improve
,
So
shall
your
enmity
be
turn'd
To
friendship
,
peace
,
and
love
.
Ah
,
had
not
envy
touch'd
your
root
,
In
me
no
faults
you'd
found
;
But
stoop
your
head
,
and
deign
to
view
Those
Daisies
on
the
ground
.
No
gaudy
colouring
can
they
boast
,
No
healing
power
have
they
;
Yet
still
they
smiling
fill
their
space
,
And
thus
they
seem
to
say
:
"
Learn
mortals
,
learn
to
be
content
,
"
Let
pride
and
envy
cease
,
"
So
shall
your
ways
be
strew'd
with
flowers
,
"
And
all
your
paths
be
peace
.
"