My Rose

There was a rose in Eden once: it grows On Earth now, sweeter for its rare perfume: And Paradise is poorer by one bloom, And Earth is richer. In this blossom glows More loveliness than old seraglios Or courts of kings did ever yet illume: More purity than ever yet had room In soul of nun or saint.--O human rose!-- Who art initial and sweet period of My heart’s divinest sentence; where I read Love, first and last, and in the pauses, love; Who art the dear ideal of each deed Through which my life is strong to attain its goal,-- Set in the mystic garden of my soul!