A Wild Rose
Alfred Austin
1835 to 1913
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The first wild rose in wayside hedge,
This I wandering see,
I pluck, and send it a pledge,
My own Wild Rose, to Thee.
For when my gaze first met thy gaze,
were knee-deep in June:
The nights were only days,
And all the hours in tune.
found thee, like the eglantine,
Sweet, simple, and apart;
And, from that hour, thy smile hath been
The flower that scents my heart.
And, ever since, when tendrils grace
Young copse or weathered bole
With rosebuds, straight I see thy face,
And into thy soul.
A natural bud of love art,
Where, gazing down, I view,
Deep in thy fragrant heart,
A drop of heavenly dew.
Go, wild rose, to my Wild Rose dear;
Bid her come swift and soon.
O would She were always here!
It then were always June.