Grandmother's
Roses?
Compensation
~~
by Nancy Virginia
Jackson Rhea
~My Grandmother
~
~~
The
roses withered that I nursed
With
tender care and labor,
The
lilies drooped, the tulips burst
Their
fragrant hearts, for dew athirst;
Not
so those of my neighbor.
~~
Her
roses flaunted on the breeze,
Their
crimson challenge flinging
To
bandit bee and butterfly
Or
humming bird with bold bright eye,
That
summer brings a-winging.
~~
Tho'
I had toiled early and late
To
match my garden's splendor
With
that one growing near my gate;
Its
apple tree with luscious freight
And
rose hedge shining tender.
~~
My
plants lie prone beneath the rush
Of
wind and noisy smelling flood;
My
neighbor's flowers blow and blush
'Neath
gentle rain in sacred hush
Of
prayer-time 'neath the sod.
~~
I
felt Cain's anger in me rise,
While
these two gardens viewing,
I
stood with jealous, moody eyes
Bent
to the ground where withered lie
My
plants--the spot bestrewing.
~~
But
suddenly at my feet I chance
To
see a daisy lifting
Its
green and serrate-fairy lance
And
slender, bending knees advance
And
flower snows adrifting.
~~
My
neighbor generous and sweet
Withholds
not of her treasure,
But
freely culls her fairest flowers
That
fall in opal-tinted showers,
To
fill up friendship's measure.
~~
She
merits all the flowers that bask
In
sunlight bright or hazy,
Then
chastened, I go to my task
Of
rearing humble plants nor ask
For
roses--I've the daisy
~~
N.
V. Rhea
- Published - 1924
-
Copyright
N. V. Rhea, 1924
~~~~
When we lived on
the farm in the 1940's,
Mama planted a rose
bush.
Later on, when we
moved to town, she
gave a cutting to
a friend. In 1980, we
built our house
and Mama's friend gave a
cutting back to
her and this rose still
blooms on, in its
everlasting beauty.
~ This rose comes
from that same rose bush ~
~~~~
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