The Book of the Rose

by Charles G.D. Roberts




Deep in the hush of those unfathomed glooms
Whereunder steamed the wet and pregnant earth,
Pulsing thick sap and pungent, hot perfumes,
This providence of unguessed needs had birth.
From drench of the innumerable rain
And drowse of unrecorded noon on noon
It sucked the heat and plucked the light, to gain
For times unborn a boon.