Courage

I thank thee, Life, that though I be

This poor and broken thing to see,

I still can look with pure delight

Upon thy rose, the red, the white.

And though so dark my own demesne,

My neighbor’s fields so fair and green,

I thank thee that my soul and I

Can free along that grass and sky.

Yet am I weak! Ere be done.

Give me one spot that takes the sun!

Give me, ere I uncaring rest.

One rose, to wear it on my breast!

By Anderson, Margaret Steele

Picture : www.wsllpaper.com

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