Saint Rose
Dear Rose, what volumes it would need to hold
The songs that poets have been fain to sing
In praise of you, — the ruby in June's ring,
Jewel of fragrance set in summer's gold!
What tender words of worship, since of old
In Eden Love first found you blossoming,
Have blest your beauty, hoping so to bring
A touch of warmth unto a bosom cold!
Poets and Lovers there shall ever be
So long as there are gardens where the vine
Builds a green temple of felicity
Within whose leaves is found your fragrant shrine.
O sweet Saint Rose! Dear flower of melody, —
A lover's token, take this song of mine.
The songs that poets have been fain to sing
In praise of you, — the ruby in June's ring,
Jewel of fragrance set in summer's gold!
What tender words of worship, since of old
In Eden Love first found you blossoming,
Have blest your beauty, hoping so to bring
A touch of warmth unto a bosom cold!
Poets and Lovers there shall ever be
So long as there are gardens where the vine
Builds a green temple of felicity
Within whose leaves is found your fragrant shrine.
O sweet Saint Rose! Dear flower of melody, —
A lover's token, take this song of mine.
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