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1835–1900

GLORY-ROSES.

Theodore Harding Rand

“Only a penny, Sir!” A child held to my view A bunch of “glory-roses,” red As blood, and wet with dew.

( O earnest little face, With living light in eye, Your roses are too fair for earth, And you seem of the sky! )

“My beauties, Sir!” he said, “Only a penny, too!” His face shone in their ruddy glow A Rafael cherub true.

“Yestreen their hoods were close About their faces tight, But ere the sun was up, I saw That God had come last night.

“O Sir, to see them then! The bush was all aflame!— O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir, That is their holy name.

“Only a penny, Sir!” — Heaven seemed across the way! I took the red, red beauties home — Roses to me for aye!

For aye, that radiant voice As if from heaven it came — “O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir, That is their holy name!”

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GLORY-ROSES. · Theodore Harding Rand · Poetry Cove