Page 89 - GALIET ONEYOUME Mystic Poetry: On the Soul´s Journey to God IV
P. 89
O Rose, Precise Rose!
O Rose, Precise Rose!
How born of maple earth Your sweet scent dwells in my heart
3⁄4 Singing 3⁄4
O My Rose! Rose of Time!
Seek the glory of the tender sun! When heaven casts its last star upon my eyes!
O Rose, my Rose!
Bed this maple earth And shoot your loving seed Towards heaven’s starry nest!
Before you stem the toothed leaves That spring three, five, seven moons Just before just
You grow the first thorn
Like She I Seed.
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