A Posy of Flowers – 3: By Alan Jacobs

ROSE GARDEN

In my rose garden warmly rouged by dawn,
There grow white arum lilies shining too,
Pranked with iris, softly clad in blue.
Radiant roses glow crimson like the morn,
I stroll amongst the fountains; in my view
Such Lady Beauty spoke as Being True.
True in the sense that Art is Beauty born,
To waken souls of men to God divine.

My  garden was the threshold to that place,
Well enriched by brilliant bright sunshine.
I felt the gentle hand of blessed grace,
That rose garden was truly Highest Art,
A joy that moved me to the depth of heart.

Alan Jacobs

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