Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Juvenile Forget Me Not, 1833/The Rose of Eden-Dale

by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

The Rose,
of Edendale.


Painted by R. Rothwell⁠Engraved by A. Duncan

THE ROSE OF EDEN-DALE AND HER
HOTHOUSE FLOWERS.*^[1]

They were so beautiful this morn—
    The lily's graceful wand
Hung with small bells, as delicate
    As from a fairy's hand.
The Indian rose, so softly red,
    As if in coming here
It lost the radiance of the south,
    And caught a shade of fear.
The white geranium vein'd with pink,
    Like that within the shell
Where, on a bed of their own hues,
    The pearls of ocean dwell.
But where is now the snowy white,
    And where the tender red?
How heavy over each dry stalk,
    Droops every languid head!

They are not worth my keeping now—
    She flung them on the ground—
Some strewed the earth, and some the wind
    Went scattering idly round.
She then thought of those flowers no more,
    But oft, in after-years,
When the young cheek was somewhat pale,
    And the eyes dim with tears—
Then she recalled the faded wreath
    Of other happier hours,
And felt love’s joy and hope had been
    But only Hothouse Flowers.
⁠L. E. L.

LONDON:

J. MOYES, CASTLE STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE.

1. See the Frontispiece.