Like A Rose

You, a friend, are like a rose.
There may be some thorns,
A little mildew at times.
But your inner sweetness glows,
And your smile lights up the day.
Just as rose petals unfurl,
To make a perfect flower,
A flower which freely gives
Its innermost sweet perfume;
Like a many splendored jewel,
You are like a shining star.
You, my friend, are like a rose.

                               By Ralph S. Moore

October Garden by Christina Rossetti

With Autumn comes the vibrant display of majestic color of fall.  The roses will be blooming again for their final glory.  I share my sentiment with Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) during the rose’s final display.

In my Autumn garden I was fain

To mourn among my scattered roses,

Alas for that last rosebud that uncloses

To Autumn’s languid sun and rain

When all the world is on the wane!

Which has not felt the sweet constraint of June,

Nor heard the nightingale in tune.

Broad-faced asters by my garden walk,

You are but coarse compared with roses:

More choice, more dear that rosebud which uncloses,

Faint-scented, pinched, upon its stalk,

That least and last which cold winds balk;

A rose it is though least and last of all,

A rose to me though at the fall.

The Rose and the Tall Dark Tree

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair

With dark brown eyes and long black hair



Beside her be a tall dark tree

Whose branches stretch to smother thee



Too close beside the shadowy bark

That soon begins to leave its mark



She cries for help, but none shall hear

Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?



To save this rose, who’d risk their life?

With naught to gain but pain and strife



Alone, afraid, she lays to rest

Her heart beats low inside her chest



And with the hour growing near

She sheds her final grieving tear



And so the rose soon falls asunder

Her final day, eternal slumber



She lies beside the old dark tree

The only one who mourns for thee.



                             Nina Hernandez, 2010

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

The Rose of the World

Let Freedom Ring

Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?

For these red lips, with all their mournful pride,

Mournful that no new wonder may betide,

Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam,

And Usna’s children died.

We and labouring world are passing by:

Amid men’s souls, that waver and give place

Like the pale waters in their wintry race,

Under the passing stars, foam of the sky,

Lives on this lonely face.

Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode:

Before you were, or any hearts to beat,

Weary and kind one lingered by His seat;

He made the world to be a grassy road

Before her wondering feet.

                             

                                   William Butler Yates 1865-1939

 

The Rose has a Powerful Virtue

The Rose has one powerful virtue to boast above all the flowers of the field:

When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost,

Still how sweet a perfume it will yield.

                                      By Isaac Watts

                                      English theologian and hymn writer

                                      (1674-1748)