The Wildwood Rose

O silver sky what wind does blow?
Across the moor to the wildwood rose
What snow does fall, the mountain’s wrath
Against the bright rose malice hath

O gentle rose, be not afeared
Thy humble strength to persevere
Where brutish strength and cunning fail
The meek and mild rose will prevail.

O wildwood rose, the river spray,
Does it wash thy tears away?
No boastful weed nor greedy vine
Would the wildwood rose entwine.

O wildwood rose, come hither soon,
I ask of you this simple boon.
Most favored of virtues, the last and the best,
Come to my heart, and there take your rest.

poem by Ryalis Elior
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!