I and my rose - a poem

These are some roses my Aunt had placed in a jar for me when I arrived at my new home. They actually match in so nicely, and look so cheery, that I now feel like I need an endless supply.

I used to disdain roses; as too showy, too exotic (in that they are not native to Australia, and people would do better not to fill their gardens with them and be then compelled to spray pesticide everywhere to keep this country's bugs off), too unoriginal. But these days, when I happen upon roses I just embrace them and enjoy. It’s not their fault.

So, I thought I’d share another poem by GA Studdert Kennedy. I am not altogether sure about the last two lines, and have puzzled whether he is switching between talking about the literal rose flower and a metaphorical rose that is Christ himself. The more I read it, the more I find, which is one characteristic of good poem.

I AND MY ROSE

There is a world of wonder in this rose;

God made it, and His whole creation grows

To a point of perfect beauty

In this garden plot. He knows

The poet's thrill

On this June morning, as He sees

His Will

To beauty taking form, His word

Made flesh, and dwelling among men.

All mysteries

In this one flower meet

And intertwine,

The universal is concrete

The human and divine,

In one unique and perfect thing, are fused

Into a unity of Love,

This rose as I behold it;

For all things gave it me,

The stars have helped to mould it,

The air, soft moonshine, and the rain,

The meekness of old mother earth,

The many-billowed sea.

The evolution of ten million years,

And all the pain

Of ages, brought it to its birth

And gave it me.

The tears

Of Christ are in it,

And His Blood

Has dyed it red,

I could not see it but for Him

Because He led

Me to the Love of God,

From which all Beauty springs.

I and my rose

Are one.

The Unutterable Beauty

G.A. Studdert-Kennedy, 1883-1929