IF LIKE A ROSE.
If life were like a rose designed,That proves its purpose to be fairAnd with the grace its bud divinedDistils June’s sweetness on the air;Then would the stubborn sheaths that holdThe flower of the heart’s idealBeneath the stress of time unfoldAnd what we dream become the real—If life had but the rose’s artAnd beauty burgeoned from the heart!Then like the rose that o’er the grassSpills leaf by leaf its lovely freightAnd tho’ its purple fortunes passIs calm in an accomplished fate,Might we with less reluctant willYield up the harvest of our hours,Seeing the inner grace fulfilIts promise in old age’s powers—If life had but the rose’s artAnd beauty burgeoned from the heart!—Edward A. Uffington Valentine.
If life were like a rose designed,That proves its purpose to be fairAnd with the grace its bud divinedDistils June’s sweetness on the air;Then would the stubborn sheaths that holdThe flower of the heart’s idealBeneath the stress of time unfoldAnd what we dream become the real—If life had but the rose’s artAnd beauty burgeoned from the heart!Then like the rose that o’er the grassSpills leaf by leaf its lovely freightAnd tho’ its purple fortunes passIs calm in an accomplished fate,Might we with less reluctant willYield up the harvest of our hours,Seeing the inner grace fulfilIts promise in old age’s powers—If life had but the rose’s artAnd beauty burgeoned from the heart!—Edward A. Uffington Valentine.
If life were like a rose designed,That proves its purpose to be fairAnd with the grace its bud divinedDistils June’s sweetness on the air;Then would the stubborn sheaths that holdThe flower of the heart’s idealBeneath the stress of time unfoldAnd what we dream become the real—If life had but the rose’s artAnd beauty burgeoned from the heart!
If life were like a rose designed,
That proves its purpose to be fair
And with the grace its bud divined
Distils June’s sweetness on the air;
Then would the stubborn sheaths that hold
The flower of the heart’s ideal
Beneath the stress of time unfold
And what we dream become the real—
If life had but the rose’s art
And beauty burgeoned from the heart!
Then like the rose that o’er the grassSpills leaf by leaf its lovely freightAnd tho’ its purple fortunes passIs calm in an accomplished fate,Might we with less reluctant willYield up the harvest of our hours,Seeing the inner grace fulfilIts promise in old age’s powers—If life had but the rose’s artAnd beauty burgeoned from the heart!
Then like the rose that o’er the grass
Spills leaf by leaf its lovely freight
And tho’ its purple fortunes pass
Is calm in an accomplished fate,
Might we with less reluctant will
Yield up the harvest of our hours,
Seeing the inner grace fulfil
Its promise in old age’s powers—
If life had but the rose’s art
And beauty burgeoned from the heart!
—Edward A. Uffington Valentine.
—Edward A. Uffington Valentine.