Sonnet 251

She was at once, my literary Rose,
A blossom bright on that scholastic Moore,
Blank upland plain where only weeds might grow
If unattended by staunch guidance sure;
A clod on that grey heath selected thus
Enriched with seeds of knowledge to inspire,
Watered there with drops of purposed trust
That from hard clay a mighty arbre aspire.
As gardens may outlast the gardener,
As seeds fair sown may grace perennial time,
So may the gift of knowledge there confer
A vision of the world that reigns sublime;
In reverent ink, a tribute to a flower
That blessed the earth, if only for an hour.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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