POETRY.

From ihe Boston Juvenile Reposilory.J

 THE DYING ROSE.
{"character_count": 1514, "word_count": 282, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8779000043869019], "ccnet_perplexity": [2009.199951171875], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
z 41s. q CMLp.. ,.,s .a,.s Tn sure watch t well; and every night ponr'd sOfi water Der ls shrivell'd eaves; q Sill every dny it droop'h--iis hnda fell Qh, If,s leaves fell tnO--and now there's nought ButIhis dry sfak remainings say Moiher, # ,vaier ii, and move it in R sunnier spot, WiIlit revive again MoTHER. s,,,...-l.,. 2 Foy many summers, and full well I knew

 That this would be iis ias for t has livd While others faded-t is dying NOao,

 And atl vour future care will not restore it. niI von not know, my child, that all the buls A nd 'Aowers of earth will asD fade and leaSe us1 They'I live while, then die, just like this rose. CHILD.

 That will repay me Tor my constant care None. with wide-spreading leaves 6 pretty blooms That will not Jade and leave me thus alonef Oh, leilme, Mother, do such never grow MoTHER.

 Which will reward yqgF lOil aud pMxious care Fur better than the fading flowers oi earss Bni you must cultivate md watch it's growth, And keep it free from every poxi0us weed; Then will h every day put tofth fresh beauty No rude blast can ever sear It's freshness-- .e4sNb hoar frost nip it, Would you know u more :. As did the Rose--or its high home s heaven. sk.HrLo.

 Aud what's its name? Pray tell me ifyou will, MOTHER.

 ,Tis the pa,e soHi, my darling child-@

 That precious gift your heavily Father gave: And fyoa keep il pars, and ask His aid

 To culture t sright he'll give 1t you;

 And when you leave this world, twill fully bloom lh iis own native soit--and meyer d;e.