Poetry of Kansas

The Rose

Poor, pretty rose! Some rude hand crushed
    And threw your loveliness aside;
And yet your fragrance sweeter is
    Than if your beauty had not died.
 
So, when a human heart is bruised
    And broken by a bitter rod,
An incense rises from its wounds
    That angels offer unto God.
 

The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Page 62

 
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November 2, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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