Layer on layer, your mute perfection grew In eloquence of light, until revealed To me, O crimson rose. Your form and hue Infuse my quickened senses. I am healed And stirred to vital life, for you relate To Beauty, Truth, Idea, Intelligence, And all of these are God. You demonstrate His potency. My thoughts are evidence. They lie who say that Beauty has no power, That Ugliness can make a poem clear, That Energy and Passion fit the hour, That Beauty palls on mind -- on eye and ear. Who can deny the verity of you, O rose of perfect beauty, ever new? |