The Wild Rose A wild rose blooms in a field of green,
Its petals soft, a delicate sheen,
Among tall grasses, a sweet perfume,
An emblem of love that doth not gloom.
The sun-kissed morning, a golden hue,
Surrounds this beauty, fresh with dew.
No garden cage can confine its grace,
In nature’s arms, it finds its place.
Let the world admire, with hearts so bold,
For in wildness lies a love untold.
In every breeze, in every glance,
The wild rose whispers, inviting a dance.

• F T Palgrave