ROSES, beautiful roses, Holding the Summer's light, Each in its graceful carven cup, Crimson and yellow and white, Breathing the sweetest odors, Wearing the richest hues, Distilled from the clouds of heaven, And the heaven-ascending dews. Roses, wonderful roses, Their texture royally fine, Each in its rare completeness Wrought by a Hand divine. The bud with the moss around it, The stem with the steadfast brier, What could so comfort the fainting heart, So answer its mute desire? The roses brought me a blessing, For they came in a weary hour, And sweet were the thoughts they whispered Of one, herself a flower. Ever may bloom about her The starriest flowers of the morn, And still may all her roses Be free from the piercing thorn. But if the thorns must wound her, Since oft, in this life of ours, The sharpest suffering reaches Those who have noblest dowers. May she rest with trust unchanging On the strength of the Friend above, And so shall roses and thorns alike Be the gifts of His matchless love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLUMBUS by EDWARD EVERETT HALE THE SLAVE MOTHER by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER TACKING SHIP OFF SHORE by WALTER MITCHELL ECHO [OR, ECHOES] by THOMAS MOORE THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 12 by OMAR KHAYYAM |