By
Paul H. Yarbrough
--Dedicated
to Francis Tyler Harrison—newest member of our family, born Good Friday, April
19.
When
the color comes into view then pain abates,
Thorns
first felt then tremble of the splendid femme.
Only
then does nature avail such horrid fates of them.
Oh,
holy rose with beauty yours do you attack flesh touch.
See
the flinching form away to react to you as much.
Red
is beauty, far in awe always viewed upon;
Forever
charm, always sheathed for prickly tear,
It
brightens hearts and stabs at flesh wholly without a care.
But
delightful forever, draws upon the scenic view;
Though
none resist the artful portrait of its pleasing hue.
Thou
peach appreciates the lavish sea of life.
The
bloom is God’s corsage, for a brooch we see.
Is
it not the time of life all saved now for you and me?
The
blend of fruit and tasty pulp though it finally ends,
It
is a way forever ours and always will begin.
The
yellow joy of eternity fills my soul.
We
laugh and cry for each day we want as now.
Never
trust the final joy of life, as we love our vow.
Grand
is the stint so given us while bending present here;
Today’s
future we claim is ours and never do we fear.
Black
thy rose apocalypse raining onto dark.
We
know the specter’s fire will breathe life’s spell;
And
always at a front, thy gate, we see the beast of hell.
Its
prophesy lain by our flesh that takes for us a breath.
We’ve
stopped and waited at the door, of that we so-call death.
Oh,
glorious white save glory, and glory more;
That
bright white rose, purity of our new life,
Not
ever do we worry as God has removed all strife.
White
is now, because we knew that from God’s throne we were fed;
The
pledge for our new beginning: white will be born of red.
--
Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England,
South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð,
unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!
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