REGENT PARK
Roses will tell you how she lives everyday without regrets.
Rosey dreams here
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
To-morrow will be dying…
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
(Robert Herrick, 1648)
Upon the earth, fair roses bloom and rise,
Their crimson hues do paint the morning skies.
With gentle thorns, they guard their tender grace,
As sunlight doth caress each velvet face.
In quiet splendor, ‘midst the world’s loud din,
Their fragrant breath doth soothe the soul within.
Though fleeting be their beauty’s sweet repose,
Eternal art resides within the rose.
