Monday 4 January 2010


In my rose garden warmly kissed by dawn,
There grew white arum lilies shining too,
Pranked with iris, softly clad in blue.

Radiant roses glowed scarlet like the morn,
I strolled amongst the fountains; in my view
Such Lady Beauty spoke as Being True.

True in the sense that Art is Beauty born,
To waken souls of men to God divine;
That garden was the threshold to that place,
Well enriched by brilliant bright sunshine.

I felt the gentle hand of blessed grace,
That rose garden was truly Highest Art,
A joy that moved me to the depths of heart.

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