A Little Budding Rose

Powerhouse - a MiniFlora Rose

It was a little budding rose,

Round like a fairy globe,

And shyly did its leaves unclose

Hid in their mossy robe,

But sweet was the slight and spicy smell

It breathed from its heart invisible.



The rose is blasted, withered, blighted,

Its root has felt a worm,

And like a heart beloved and slighted,

Failed, faded, shrunk its form.

Bud of beauty, bonnie flower,

I stole thee from thy natal bower.



I was the worm that withered thee,

Thy tears of dew all fell for me;

Leaf and stalk and rose are gone,

Exile earth they died upon,

Yes, that last breath of balmy scent

With alien breezes sadly blent!

                                                Emily Bronte

                                                1818-1848

Rose Verse - Roses Speak

Roses Speak



Something deep in the heart of a rose

Is tender beyond compare

Like the first blush of dawn or a baby’s yawn

It touches hearts everywhere.



Though mute, they inspire compassion

In a gentle way all their own . . .

Imagine a world without roses

Or a place where no roses are grown!



If roses spoke for the people,

The world would have peace overnight

Nothing to solve, or bargain,

But a rosy world, blooming bright!



                                By Marge Powell

Sun City, Arizona

American Rose Annual 1968