Rose

O ye beautiful rose,
seeing thy charm I froze,
can I never come close,
smelling thy scent I doze;

among flowers more pleasant,
thou reign man’s mind,
thy beauty or beauty thou adorn,
on beautiful beauties thy ascent;

thy heart is never kind,
it makes others torn,
thy skin glows blood red,
the color men dread;

seeing thou gets misled,
not who toils for bread,
does he know thy beauty,
will he hold you in his hands;

you rumpled in rough embrace,
shall be famous for eternity,
he’ll sing your praise in distant lands,
his dirt shall shine your face;

when he tries to hold,
raise your head and chin,
don’t touch, is he told,
by a thorn piercing skin;

you who have a soft petal,
why you have a thorn?
more a curse than a boon,
to nature’s smooth recital;

happy maiden you fair born,
outshine other’s too soon,
sun above and land below,
is all you need to thrive;

with mighty time you mellow,
none surpass till you survive,
when you go buds shall blossom,
finding courage to overcome shyness;

newborns awaken at first light,
go on till they get tiresome,
with all their finesse,
and sleep in peace at night;

the dew over you,
the chill early morn,
when moon bids adieu,
there beauty born;

you lived in all glory,
yet when you fell,
none sheds a tear,
forgotten your story.

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