O Perfect Rose

Full-petalled rose what secrets lie

Within the perfume of your heart,

You have witnessed nations die

Your emblem worn as the bloody art

Of men who carried you to war,

And on your dress of summer green

You wear the thorn, a metaphor

For wounds in battles you have seen.

Your beauty mocks the evil sown

In all for whom you are the Queen

Of love and honour and the Unknown

Who lives in us as one unseen,

Your loveliness is symbol bright,

O perfect rose, our soul's delight.