Thursday
It was a little budding rose,
Round like a fairy globe,
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe,
But sweet was the slight and spicy smell
It breathed from its heart invisible.
It was a little budding rose,
Round like a fairy globe,
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe,
But sweet was the slight and spicy smell
It breathed from its heart invisible.
A Little Budding Rose by Emily Bronté. For those of you familiar with the poem in its entirety you may understand why I wonder about Emily Bronté and her tales of deepest love. I'm sure that in her head she saw the dark as few do see it.
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
ReplyDelete