Where every bush was burning with the rose,
With million roses falling flake by flake
Upon the lawn in fading summer snows:
I read the Persian Poet's rhyme of old,
Each thought a ruby in a ring of gold?
Old thoughts so young, that, after all these years,
They're writ on every rose-leaf yet unrolled.
You may not know the secret tongue aright
The Sunbeams on their rosy tablets write;
Only a poet may perchance translate
Those ruby-tinted hieroglyphs of light.
- Mathilde Blind
"In a Kentish Rose Garden" -
29 May 2011
Images © by Merisi