Sweet is The Rose

Sweet is the rose that comes within the spring,
With joy of life and all the youth so sweet;
That from the feelings in the heart will sing,
Of what grows forward in its aesthete.
True of love and for a time beautiful,
The joy that tempests and alteration finds;
Full of the colors that can't become dull,
For with its love each corpuscle rebinds.
Within the height of summer's bright night,
Where fields of green give longings new;
The dreams away will first start in its flight,
And fill the sky with deep and distant blue.
Oh yearnings on the edge of autumn doom,
Now sullen in the coldness of dark bloom.