The Rose
You smile at me from your leaves' green seclusion,
As did the angel at the world’s first pair,
In morning dew the blooms bathe in profusion,
On your blooms though but one drop glistens there.
Is it a single tear the elf wept, sighing
Since you’re so lovely yet live but a while?
With youthful fulness, leaves half-closed, complying,
You stand and sweetly dream on earth’s fair isle.
What are you dreaming? Pain there has no meaning,
Your life is love, your soul a scent so rare,
A blessed poet’s heart is your whole being,
Which heaven sees where others see but air.
No comments:
Post a Comment