Poems (Nora May French)/The Rose
THE ROSE2
AY, pluck a jonquil when the May's a-wing!
Or please you with a rose upon the breast,
A sweeter violet chosen from the rest,
To match your mood with blue caprice of spring—
Leave windy vines a tendril less to swing.
Why, what's a flower? A day's delight at best,
A perfume loved, a faded petal pressed,
A whimsey for an hour's remembering.
Or please you with a rose upon the breast,
A sweeter violet chosen from the rest,
To match your mood with blue caprice of spring—
Leave windy vines a tendril less to swing.
Why, what's a flower? A day's delight at best,
A perfume loved, a faded petal pressed,
A whimsey for an hour's remembering.
But wondrous careful must he draw the rose
From jealous earth, who seeks to set anew
Deep root, young leafage, with a gardener's art—
To plant her queen of all his garden dose,
And make his varying fancy wind and dew,
Cloud, rain, and sunshine for one woman's heart.
From jealous earth, who seeks to set anew
Deep root, young leafage, with a gardener's art—
To plant her queen of all his garden dose,
And make his varying fancy wind and dew,
Cloud, rain, and sunshine for one woman's heart.