THE OPENING OF THE ROSES
Oh see in all their varied, fair unfoldings,
The rosebuds opening, opening to the light!
White waxen scrolls and tinted silken lusters,
And crimson velvet folds in wreaths and clusters;
They seem all tangled in my heart's life-story,
Its sadness and its sweetness and its glory;
The red and white ones mingled in a cross,
My life's strange heritage of life and loss,
With all the sweetness born of patient trust,
Born to sunshine out of dark and dust;
I love them all—pink-tipped and amber-hued,
But these my love with deepest aim have wooed.
The rosebuds opening, opening to the light!
White waxen scrolls and tinted silken lusters,
And crimson velvet folds in wreaths and clusters;
They seem all tangled in my heart's life-story,
Its sadness and its sweetness and its glory;
The red and white ones mingled in a cross,
My life's strange heritage of life and loss,
With all the sweetness born of patient trust,
Born to sunshine out of dark and dust;
I love them all—pink-tipped and amber-hued,
But these my love with deepest aim have wooed.