Miracle, and Other Poems

<h2 id="id00230" style="margin-top: 4em">A SONG OF ROSES</h2> <p id="id00231">'Tis time to sing of roses: of roses all ablow,<br/> To every vagrant passing breeze they dip a courtesy low,<br/> 'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here, you know.<br/></p> <p id="id00232">One song for true love's roses of sweetest deepest red,<br/> Some heart will wear you faithfully when life itself hath fled,<br/> And for the white rose sing a song—the white rose for the dead.<br/></p> <p id="id00233">And ah! the yellow roses, of brightest, lightest gold,<br/> King Midas must have touched their leaves in mystic days of old,<br/> Or they were made of sunshine, and gilded, fold by fold.<br/></p> <p id="id00234">And the roadside rose, sweet-briar, we would remember thee<br/> And the cinnamon rose that evermore enthralls each passing bee,<br/> You old, old-fashioned roses, a-growing wild and free.<br/></p> <p id="id00235">'Tis time to sing of roses! of roses all ablow!<br/> They come again, as sweet, my dear, as those of long ago.<br/> 'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here you know.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />