A Wild Rose

The first wild rose in wayside hedge,

This year I wandering see,

I pluck, and send it as a pledge,

My own Wild Rose, to Thee.

For when my gaze first met thy gaze,

We were knee deep in June:

The nights were only dreamier days,

And all the hours in tune.

I found thee, like the eglantine,

Sweet, simple, and apart;

And, from that hour, thy smile hath been

The flower that scents my heart.

And, ever since, when tendrils grace

Young copse or weathered bole

With rosebuds, straight I see thy face,

And gaze into thy soul.

A natural bud of love Thou art,

Where, gazing down, I view,

Deep hidden in thy fragrant heart,

A drop of heavenly dew.

Go, wild rose, to my Wild Rose dear;

Bid her come swift and soon.

O would that She were always here!

It then were always June.