Thursday, June 28, 2012

The Rose

Crimson rose, young in summer, why do you fear the fading days?
For life's short hour will you grace a lady's bouquet,
An engagement kiss,
Or applaud the musician's hand?
If never plucked, shorn from the vine,
Still your charms are mine.
For a moment you gave me pause,
A reminder that not all the world's a reckless stage.
Blush on for all your small hours of repose,
And weep not when the last petal falls,
For you gave the best,
And in your beauty we are blessed.

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