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Title: The Rose
Author: Jared Barhite [
More Titles by Barhite]
When dewy morn of balmy June
Awakes and blushes in the East,
When song birds pipe their sweetest tune
And Nature spreads her grandest feast,
Among the rare and fragrant plants
Whose petals most of heaven disclose,
In foremost rank--far in advance--
There stands the sprightly, smiling rose.
Its home is on the wide, wide plains,
In valleys where wild torrents foam,
In solitudes where silence reigns,
And by the cotter's humble home.
It cheers alike the rich and poor
On Alpine heights, or by the sea,
By castle wall or peasant's door--
It justly claims ubiquity.
Could blushing beauty born of heaven,
Or world-wide worship win the prize,
Could fragrance, fancy, fame, or even
The rich rays of reflected skies
Soothe sorrows sharp and scorching sting
And give the world complete repose,
Then men should shout and children sing--
"The flower of State must be the Rose!"
[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: Rose
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