The Rose Rises, Rises In The Wind Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The rose rises, rises in the wind
And nurtured in its caress vies
With its peers scent to shed.

The rose rises, rises in the dawn
And in the warmth of the fast-rising sun
Erects itself in pride deservedly.

The rose rises, rises still
In its sweet surfeiting in the mid-day sun
In the honeyed laze of afternoon
In the sick beauty of the lassitude
Of the fast-coming dusk with stealthy mien

But then it bends the rose will bend
Like gleaming sheaves in acres of gold corn:
The rose will know the time to bend is come.

And without potion will it sink and slow
Into its drowsiness sub-consciously:
And sleeping feel the cool of the summer night.