The Rose Garden
Jordan A. Egertson
I went to weed the rose garden
It had been a while I supposed
My youthful eyes soon realized
this garden had no rose
But Mom called it a rose garden
From where did she draw this name
She had to know, though weeds did grow
her efforts came up lame
But she said, "My son, my son, you cannot see?
Beauty has no more reality
than the flourishing flowers you fail to find
but stand so striking in my mind
Before your eyes the sowing seeds
have grown into a grove of weeds
Forsake your sight and dress the air
with roses — you must wish them there"
I went back to weed the rose garden
Now with wishes I can see
the weed, the rose — How they shall look
is strictly up to me
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