There Was A Rose In Eden Once: It Grows On Earth Now, Sweeter For Its Rare Perfume: And Paradise Is Poorer By One Bloom, And Earth Is Richer. In This Blossom Glows More Loveliness Than Old Seraglios Or Courts Of Kings Did Ever Yet Illume: More Purity, Than Ever Yet Had Room In Soul Of Nun Or Saint. O Human Rose, Who Art Initial And Sweet Period Of My Heart'S Divinest Sentence, Where I Read Love, First And Last, And In The Pauses Love; Who Art The Dear Ideal Of Each Deed My Life Aspires By To Some High Goal, Set In The Haunted Garden Of My Soul!