Garden Rose

a poem from summer mornings

In a narrow border at the front of the house, I have planted a miniature rose bush. It is now covered in great trusses of small, red roses, brilliant and fragrant.

To a Rose Outside My Window

Red rose growing just outside my window—
Petals all aswirl in crimson velvet,
Half a hundred blooms to meet the morning—
Greet me as you greet the summer sunshine
For I scarcely understand the friendship,
How a rose and I make friends together,
Each with each rejoice in summer’s bounty;
Thus the two of us have made a garden.

Roses just beneath my earnest fingers,
Leaves of red and green that brightly mirror
Back the sun and light the velvet petals
Which perfume the air of passing summer—
See, I touch your faces and I’m smiling,
One with you and with the scented season;
Bright we smile while the sun is shining,
Thus the two of us have made a garden.

Rose, you glow with all your gentle wisdom;
Here we love the sun that brings us greeting,
And from you I learn to bless the raindrops
Falling on our faces half-uplifted;
Only let there be no hail or blight here,
When the loss brings longing of deep sorrow;
Only dwell in passing of the season;
Thus the two of us have made a garden.

Thus we meet the morning light, companions,
Find our way through raindrops and the shadow,
Find our way through noon and on to twilight,
Greeting bees that seek your golden pollen,
Greeting the swift darting of the swallow,
Greeting the late moth that mutely hovers,
Greeting hour by gently passing hour;
Thus the two of us have made a garden.