The world is full of roses, blooming red for me I and you, <br />They smile a morning welcome and are wet with heavenly dew, <br />And every oak and maple, and every apple thorn <br />Have a song bird on their branches singing gayly in the morn; <br />But you never see a red rose waiting in a cloud of gloom <br />For some one who will coaz it and persuade it into bloom, <br />And you never see a song bird sitting idly in a tree <br />In a solemn, sullen manner till one begs for melody. <br /> <br />No, the red rose blooms in sweetness and it gives its charms to all, <br />And the bees may sip its honey, and the honey's never gall; <br />E'en a little child may pluck it, or a mother old and gray, <br />For the rose's special mission is to glad some heart each day. <br />And the song bird in the branches just as sweetly trills and sings <br />For the ploughboys in the furrows as he would for mighty kings. <br />O, there never was a red rose or a song bird up above, <br />That you had to beg for favors or you had to know to love. <br /> <br />But with men it's O, so different, there are some who smile and sing <br />And scatter love and sunshine, like the song birds on the wing, <br />But we find too oft a mortal who could make his brothers glad, <br />Sitting solemnly and grimly, with a visage long and sad, <br />Waiting some one who will coax him, who will flatter for his smile, <br />Ere he'll sing a song of gladness or do anything worth while. <br />Give me men with gifts who use them, and who let their spirits flow, <br />One is worth a dozen mortals whom to like you have to know.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roses-birds-and-some-men/
