Mercy's Quill

From Mercy's book of poems and stories
June 1689

The Rose

Bud of rose
A bloom of folds
Pink and crimson
The part we hold

Stem of thorns
Slender spires
The piercing pains
Of little fires

One part beauty
Soft as fleece
One part callous
Bereft of peace

Fragrant fabric
Petals fall
Thorns stay fast
And move not at all