I would do it just for you,
And share with you it's beauty's
On the days you're feeling blue.
If I could build a mountain
You could call your very own,
A place to find serenity--
A place to be alone.
If I could take your troubles
And toss them out to sea...
All the things I'm finding
Are impossible for me.
I cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rainbow fair,
All I can be is a friend,
that is always there.
-Anonymous
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the world!
You too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
The bell that calls us on, the sweet far thing.
Beauty grown sad with it's eternity
Made you of us, and the dim grey sea.
Our long ships lose thought-woven sails and wait,
For God has bid them share on equal fate;
And when at last, defeated in His wars,
They have gone down under the same white stars,
We shall no longer hear the little cry
Of our sad hearts, that may not live or die.
-from The Rose of Battle, W.B. Yeats
