This is the time of year to enjoy roses in our gardens. A friend gave me an ancient book of poems about roses where the authors are identified only by surnames. I will first read one by an author identified only by the name Moore. So I don't know which Moore he is or when he lived.
Long, long be my heart
With such memories filled!
Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled-
You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang ‘round it still.
The next poem is by an author named Dorr, which coincidentally rhymes with Moore, the name of the previous author.
O beautiful, royal roses,
O rose so fair and sweet!
Queen of the garden art thou,
And I the clay at thy feet.
Yet, O thou beautiful rose!
Queen rose, so fair and sweet,
What were lover or crown to thee
Without the clay at thy feet!
Dobson wrote the next poem. Here it is:
When summer cometh,
Full leaved and strong,
The gay birds gossip
The orchard long-
Sing rich, sweet honey
That no bird sips,
Sing red, red roses
And my love's lips.
