The Rose
O none can hold swift beauty fast
as it to scattered winds is cast:
the rose is fair, she does not last.
The thorns remain when she is past.
The fair to scattered winds is cast;
the rose is fair: she does not last.
The thorns remain when she is past,
and none can hold her beauty fast.
The rose is fair; she does not last.
The thorns remain when she is past,
for none can hold her beauty fast
as it to scattered winds is cast.
The thorns remain when bloom is past,
and none can hold its beauty fast
as it to scattered winds is cast.
The rose is fair. She does not last.
Sunray
In the dawn of the sun,
in a hope bright-lit,
strong, pure, with the light
of the truth and the grace
of the angels of God,
hearts leap to the task
of a life well-lived
with a will and resolve
that endures to the end.
