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The Last Rose
'O WHICH is the last rose?'
A blossom of no name.
At midnight the snow came;
At daybreak a vast rose,
In darkness unfurl'd,
O'er-petall'd the world.
Its odourless pallor
Blossom'd forlorn,
Till radiant valour
Establish'd the morn
Till the night
Was undone
In her fight
With the sun.
The brave orb in state rose,
And crimson he shone first;
While from the high vine
Of heaven the dawn burst,
Staining the great rose
From sky-line to sky-line.
The red rose of morn
A white rose at noon turn'd;
But at sunset reborn
All red again soon burn'd.
Then the pale rose of noonday
Rebloom'd in the night,
And spectrally white
In the light
Of the moon lay.
But the vast rose
Was scentless,
And this is the reason:
When the blast rose
Relentless,
And brought in due season
The snow rose, the last rose
Congeal'd in its breath,
Then came with it treason;
The traitor was Death.
In lee-valleys crowded,
The sheep and the birds
Were frozen and shrouded
In flights and in herds.
In highways
And byways
The young and the old
Were tortured and madden'd
And kill'd by the cold.
But many were gladden'd
By the beautiful last rose,
The blossom of no name
That came when the snow came,
In darkness unfurl'd
The wonderful vast rose
That fill'd all the world.
John Davidson 1857-1909
Please be my guest and make a selection from the places
listed below. I wish for thee harmony and peace during your walk through
me rose garden.
Please pardon the mess, but I be in the
process of rearranging and adding unto me estate. Stop by again soon and visit
me humble additions. My many thanks good gentle folk.
A Churchyard by the Sea: Tim and Paul Frantzich
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