Sanguine Beauty
A solitary rose in red attire,
Igniting passion and fire to inspire,
Her blush in bloom prompt to tell,
Yes, she is extremely beautiful,
She is by proportion made,
With sepals embroidered and complexion laid,
Petals of joy day-and-night,
Cast a glistening light,
Morning mist shall gather some dew,
O Dear! Such a splendid view,
Through days of toil, soil and care,
From tiny buds to glossy hair,
While the first drizzling shower is born slow,
Takes off the dirt, making her glow,
Then works downward, sick of wind and rain,
Turning her smile to fugitive pain,
Then the sun’s divine light,
And scorching heat, keeping her smile tight,
Shining in the far with a reflected radiance,
Gazer’s eye caught to make countenance,
When favoring breeze tend to blow,
Along the windy shores, her fragrance flow,
Then at night, in a sadder light than pallid moon,
Rest from all thoughts, awaits the sun to wake her soon.
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