O Rose Hear These
O Rose, within your folds, you did allow,
Now, that sleeky worm fathomed what you are,
Should sweetly fruits, to you, it would avow,
Know that their juices sour to vinegar;
And mark, that joy often proceeds from pain,
And cups that overflow, would waste the wine,
And gardens grow, with sunshine as with rain,
And most water, the world contains, is brine;
So, when your withered eyes are set to weep,
Weep not, for fact, that all your days are spent,
Rather, rejoice for moments all may keep,
For memories, only in dreams are sent;
......Should mortals ask, why glad though life is brief,
......Say that a brief life got no space for grief.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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