Ode: To Rose

Of your repute may I gladly shout and aver this day most well? You are foremost a high-born lady of style whereof I'd love to tell, a princess that's sage and lovely— whose mind is like a fertile dell. You are too oft’ a raven-haired of graciousness that's seldom seen. You are the friend that boldly dared to be the one and hopeful Queen, a source of ruth who cried and shared her tears through eyes of limpid green. You are to souls a fresh new start, a renaissance of hope that's true:— a gift of grace to the contrite heart and to the lost that no one knew; you are thus the most blessèd part of faith and joy that now ensue.