Ah, life is but a rose
thornless and tender
as sunrise wakes
her garden yonder
and here I lie
in shaken repose
where dreams beguile
dreams of thine rose
for thou art sweet
innocent, and true
and here I lie
despondent and blue
Life is but a rose
whose petals sing
in airy distractions
with thorns as strings
A Gap In The Clouds 