A rose to the living is more
Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead;
In filling love's infinite store,
A rose to the living is more
If graciously given before
The hungering spirit is fled.
A rose to the living is more,
Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead.
- Poems by Nixon Waterman
The Mystery of the Rose
He came and took me by the hand
Up to a red rose tree,
He hept His meaning to Himself,
But gave a rose to me.
I did not pray Him to lay bare
The mystery to me;
Enough the rose was heaven to smell,
And His own face to see.
- Poems by Ralph Hodgson
On Every Rose
I see His blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of His eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows
His tears fall from the skies.
I see His face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but His voice~and carven by His power
Rocks are His written words.
All pathways by His feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs
the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns
is twined with every thorn
His cross is every tree.
- Poems by Joseph Mary Plunkett
ROMANTIC
