From the German

There is an angel that abides
Within the budding rose ;
That is his home, and there he hides

His head in calm repose.
The rose-bud is his humble home,
But thence he often loves to roam ;
And wending through the path of Heaven,
Empurples all the track of even.
If e'er he sees a maiden meek,

He hovers nigh, and flings
Upon the modest maiden's cheek

The shadow of his wings.
Oh, lovely maiden, dost thou know
Why thy cheeks so warmly glow ?
'Tis the Angel of the Rose,
That salutes thee as he goes.