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The Rose
For twenty-one decades harsh
Her bush begat just thorn;
Bereft of fragrant petal sweet
her time-honored adorn.

She came with hope, dignified;
amid pomp and revelry.
Righteous sons, absent long;
leave her bare for all to see.

Unable to further bear the
grim burden borne so long
She weeps in piteous despair
My Beloved, yea I’ve done wrong

Recall, tho’, I was your bride;
The solemn oath You swore.
Our love can suffer no wane
exile me no more.

Your pain is mine o precious one
Her beloved doth proclaim;
Our devotion has ever burnt
A love-kindled flame

To all eyes it did appear
Your beloved turned aside
I clung to you, your broken heart,
all the while, my precious bride.

Your tormentors I shall avenge
Ten plagues of recompense
Over the threshold of our love
I will carry you hence.

Eternal love endures the sting
Of doubt’s bitter embrace.
Stand now with lifted head
at my side; your rightful place.

No more tears of sorrow spilt;
joyous laughter in their stead.
Accompany me to Sinai;
With sacred gift I thee wed

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