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Thanking the Rose
A wind brushed upon me, parting my lips to grin.
What happened to my woe, to my pain within?
What world is this? Why does everything sing?
Why now of all times must I feel as a king?
I walk the path, through the wooded hollow,
Naught but love drew me, drew me to follow.
A sweet hum caressed my heart and mind.
All this time, and only now I find,
That which compels me to wake with the sun,
It is she who is my home, she who is my one.
A dream had kissed me along with that breeze,
A subtle pain within had begun to ease.
Who now calls upon the crimson Rose,
To sing my name and relieve my woes?
My pain is gone, my pain is gone.
I’ve but my Rose to thank for her song,
And now It ends. My pain is gone.