Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear!
What is far conquers what is near.
Roses will bloom nor want beholders,
Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?
A novel grace and a beauty strange.
I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,
Shaped her to his mind!---Alas! in like manner
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
What is far conquers what is near.
Roses will bloom nor want beholders,
Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.
What shall arrive with the cycle's change?
A novel grace and a beauty strange.
I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,
Shaped her to his mind!---Alas! in like manner
They circle their rose on my rose tree.
Robert Frost
This photo by Celia Benavidez
is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0
Unported License.Copyright (c) 2012 by
Celia Ann Benavidez.
This work is made available under the
terms of the Creative Commons
Permissions beyond the scope of this
license may be available at
www.ramblinrose.info
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