Poetry Day - The Rose

It is such a wet and cold and miserable day here today, but so perfect for being indoors in ugg boots, doing such things as writing letters, crochet, reading and practising guitar (I actually did duck out to a shopping centre earlier to get a few things, which I thought was madness but was relatively painless). I am so pleased that the public holiday meant not needing to get to work in this weather, though I was hoping to go for a jog at some point, but am not liking my chances it is so so wet. Having spent a good amount of time "out" over the weekend, I am enjoying this home day.

When I mentioned writing letters above, that is something that doesn't actually happen enough these days, so I making the most of this day off to do so. I have been including little crochet roses in posted packets of late, for some added cheer, and so thought I might post this poem on The Rose, by Christina Rossetti.

The Rose

O Rose, thou flower of flowers, thou fragrant wonder,

    Who shall describe thee in thy ruddy prime;

    Thy perfect fulness in the summer time;

When the pale leaves blushingly part asunder

And show the warm red heart lies glowing under?

    Thou shouldst bloom surely in some sunny clime,

    Untouched by blights and chilly Winter's rime,

Where lightninggs never flash, nor peals the thunder.

And yet in happier spheres they cannot need thee

    So much as we do with our weight of woe;

Perhaps they would not tend, perhaps not heed thee,

    And thou wouldst lonely and neglected grow;

And He Who is All-Wise, He hath decreed thee

    To gladden earth and cheer all hearts below.

Christina Rossetti