Along the sunny side of the woodland path,
The wild rose hedge now dons its new green gown.
Now blooms the rose, far from the gardened town!
Now wafts the perfume, which no other bloom hath
Distilled or dreamed might be. Though winter's wrath
Touched all the man made gardens, on hill and down
Wild roses wreathe again the Spring's gay crown--
An old time grace renews the smile, the laugh!
Here is a hope to build through cloud and sun.
What though the blossom breathe for one brief hour?
The mystery lives in the heart that knows
True beauty, believing that the Spring will come
Strewing pale petals, and the perfumed flower
That has never changed,--Oh sweet wild rose!