The Gardener
Love is the rose?
So many suppose
but it likens to something that dies.
Love is the rose
Temporary
Beauty and shine to dazzle the eyes?
Who tends the rose
with clippers and hose
giving drink and trimming stray branches?
Who tends the rose,
with patient care
in lifeless winter, never blanches?
Though leaves are bare
He feels no despair
when he sees naught but dry twigs and thorn.
Though leaves are bare
he waits for Spring.
The death of blossoms he does not mourn.
Love is the Lord,
Majesty still stored
in the heavens and trees and flowers.
Love is the Lord;
like gardener
tends, and in dark winter never cowers.
We in our love
with gardening glove
must continue to tend and protect.
We in our love
fight winter chill.
Persistence and patience will perfect.
So many suppose
but it likens to something that dies.
Love is the rose
Temporary
Beauty and shine to dazzle the eyes?
Who tends the rose
with clippers and hose
giving drink and trimming stray branches?
Who tends the rose,
with patient care
in lifeless winter, never blanches?
Though leaves are bare
He feels no despair
when he sees naught but dry twigs and thorn.
Though leaves are bare
he waits for Spring.
The death of blossoms he does not mourn.
Love is the Lord,
Majesty still stored
in the heavens and trees and flowers.
Love is the Lord;
like gardener
tends, and in dark winter never cowers.
We in our love
with gardening glove
must continue to tend and protect.
We in our love
fight winter chill.
Persistence and patience will perfect.
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