Rose of Winter
Does the rose of winter,
Have
any beauty less
Does
it not still claim
The
bright bloom
In the
wilderness.
Had
you never the rose, had seen
In its
fullness,
In its
height.
You'd
think it a thorny twig in the ground
Prickly
to touch
Weary
of life's routine
Tired
of life's plight.
But
those who have seen the rose of spring, of summer.
Know
that winters trials, cannot steal,
And
the thorny twig of winter has a beauty deeply laid
In the
ground and the roots.
That
she bears the Trial of winter and duress,
with the same delicate and fragrant appeal,
only
the outside appearance tricks the eye,
and it is the looker who is to blame.