Where be Wild Roses

A comparison of the soul of mankind to that of wild roses.

There is a seed to be sowed in high grasses or low
In the tuff clumps that grasp the dandy weed, thus will grow
Adrift and carried to a parched and scantly settle ground, thrice winds blown
Then abides its time of this creation plain within craggy growth
To show itself a twisted and fragile sort of stuff that made its way up
To be a simple thorny uncultured weed whose bud is completely arose
Where be the wild roses in a sea of harshness coming forth from the darkness
The kind that waits in snaring crags of unforgotten fortune, and met with a desolate
Love whose rapture is known finitely infinite for a time, then to rest pondering
In its undoing, perhaps, until we find where there be wild roses of your soul.