New Zealand Verse/Ina
CXVIII.
Ina.
I know where a wee rose blooms,
In a garden so fair and wide—
The only wee rose ’mong stately buds,
And none in the world beside;
How could there be more than one fair queen,
When only one heart have I?
How could there be more than one wee rose,
When there’s only one sun in the sky?
In a garden so fair and wide—
The only wee rose ’mong stately buds,
And none in the world beside;
How could there be more than one fair queen,
When only one heart have I?
How could there be more than one wee rose,
When there’s only one sun in the sky?
The soul of my rose lay hid
In the blushes—right under the folds
Of the leaves; in the beautiful blushes
That were gold, and the truest of golds.
Ah! never a man save I
Found the soul that lay hid in the folds—
In the gold that was fairest of golds,
And bright as the sun in the sky.
In the blushes—right under the folds
Of the leaves; in the beautiful blushes
That were gold, and the truest of golds.
Ah! never a man save I
Found the soul that lay hid in the folds—
In the gold that was fairest of golds,
And bright as the sun in the sky.
The winds may beat on the river,
I only look up to the sky;
The hearts that are pierced may shiver—
May shiver, and pine, and die,
But I have that wee fair rose;
There’s none in the world beside
So fair as my sweet wee rose,
Though the garden is fair and wide!
I only look up to the sky;
The hearts that are pierced may shiver—
May shiver, and pine, and die,
But I have that wee fair rose;
There’s none in the world beside
So fair as my sweet wee rose,
Though the garden is fair and wide!
I saw, in the purple dawn,
My wee rose fade and pale;
Was my heart too warm, my sweet,
Or bitter the frosted gale?
Did the summer winds grow faint
Or chill, in the heart of May?
Or did some stranger across the stream
Beckon thy soul away?
My wee rose fade and pale;
Was my heart too warm, my sweet,
Or bitter the frosted gale?
Did the summer winds grow faint
Or chill, in the heart of May?
Or did some stranger across the stream
Beckon thy soul away?
Oh, darling, I felt so brave,
And my heart was true and bold,
That none might rob its treasure,
My rose that was fairer than gold.
But, weary, I wander, seeking
My rose o’er the daisied sod;
Where art thou hiding from me,
Bonnie sweet rose of God?
And my heart was true and bold,
That none might rob its treasure,
My rose that was fairer than gold.
But, weary, I wander, seeking
My rose o’er the daisied sod;
Where art thou hiding from me,
Bonnie sweet rose of God?
W. R. Wills