Oh the sweetest rose that dwells in forest
With perfect fragrance and wondrous flower
That blooms its fairest in the morning hour
When all nightly worries lay down and rest
With all colors sweetly the rose is blessed
When they are deepest after a rainy shower
You feel the freshness the growth and its power
When petals are perfectly trimmed and best
So is all life when nothing is to worry
Days are splendid and nights are gone in moods
With dreams of futures which are not yet born
Then dwells each hour and nothing seems in hurry
Of each feeling and their passionate fruits
No daily worries there's then there to scorn
 

Copyright © 1999 by Peter S. Quinn