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Wandering
the barren lea,
A wild boy saw a wild rose tree
In summer beauty, leaf and thorn:
Young and lovely as the morn.
Running to her side, the boy
Beheld the blossom with great joy:
Crimson for a lover's wreath,
Little rose upon the heath.
And the boy said, "I will pick you,
Little rose upon the heath!"
And the rose said, "I will prick you,
Wicked boy upon the heath!
And so fierce this wound shall be,
You will always think of me:
Crimson for a lover's wreath,
Little rose upon the heath."
And the wild boy picked her —
The little rose upon the heath.
And the wild rose flicked her
Pricking thorns, like needle teeth;
But for all her cries of woe,
The young knave would not let her go:
Crimson for a lover's wreath,
Little rose upon the heath.
© 2009 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author. |
