The Loveliest Rose In The World

: MAY DAY
: Good Stories For Great Holidays

BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (ADAPTED)



Once there reigned a queen, in whose garden were found the most glorious

flowers at all seasons and from all the lands of the world. But more

than all others she loved the roses, and she had many kinds of this

flower, from the wild dog-rose with its apple-scented green leaves to

the most splendid, large, crimson roses. They grew against the garden

walls, wound themselv
s around the pillars and wind-frames, and crept

through the windows into the rooms, and all along the ceilings in the

halls. And the roses were of many colors, and of every fragrance and

form.



But care and sorrow dwelt in those halls. The queen lay upon a sick-bed,

and the doctors said she must die.



"There is still one thing that can save her," said the wise man. "Bring

her the loveliest rose in the world, the rose that is the symbol of the

purest, the brightest love. If that is held before her eyes ere they

close, she will not die."



Then old and young came from every side with roses, the loveliest that

bloomed in each garden, but they were not of the right sort. The flower

was to be plucked from the Garden of Love. But what rose in all that

garden expressed the highest and purest love?



And the poets sang of the loveliest rose in the world,--of the love of

maid and youth, and of the love of dying heroes.



"But they have not named the right flower," said the wise man. "They

have not pointed out the place where it blooms in its splendor. It is

not the rose that springs from the hearts of youthful lovers, though

this rose will ever be fragrant in song. It is not the bloom that

sprouts from the blood flowing from the breast of the hero who dies

for his country, though few deaths are sweeter than his, and no rose is

redder than the blood that flows then. Nor is it the wondrous flower

to which man devotes many a sleepless night and much of his fresh

life,--the magic flower of science."



"But I know where it blooms," said a happy mother, who came with her

pretty child to the bedside of the dying queen. "I know where the

loveliest rose of love may be found. It springs in the blooming cheeks

of my sweet child, when, waking from sleep, it opens its eyes and smiles

tenderly at me."



"Lovely is this rose, but there is a lovelier still," said the wise man.



"I have seen the loveliest, purest rose that blooms," said a woman. "I

saw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown.

And in the long, dreary night she carried her sick child in her arms.

She wept, kissed it, and prayed for her child."



"Holy and wonderful is the white rose of a mother's grief," answered the

wise man, "but it is not the one we seek."



"The loveliest rose in the world I saw at the altar of the Lord," said

the good Bishop, "the young maidens went to the Lord's Table. Roses

were blushing and pale roses shining on their fresh cheeks. A young girl

stood there. She looked with all the love and purity of her spirit up to

heaven. That was the expression of the highest and purest love."



"May she be blessed," said the wise man, "but not one of you has yet

named the loveliest rose in the world."



Then there came into the room a child, the queen's little son.



"Mother," cried the boy, "only hear what I have read."



And the child sat by the bedside and read from the Book of Him who

suffered death upon the cross to save men, and even those who were not

yet born. "Greater love there is not."



And a rosy glow spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes

gleamed, for she saw that from the leaves of the Book there bloomed the

loveliest rose, that sprang from the blood of Christ shed on the cross.



"I see it!" she said, "he who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth,

shall never die."



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