The Fairest Young Rose
by George Albert Leddy
Down in my garden, close by the fence,
Where the Thistles and Cockleburs grow;
Where the ground is so rough, and the sod is so tough,
It’s defiant to shovel and hoe.
Yet, the Hummingbirds hum, and the Honeybees come;
And I know there must be sweetness there.
The foliage is wild, yet the fragrance is mild;
There’s a beauty about it that’s rare.
There the Frog and the Toad make their secret abode;
They sleep through the heat of the day;
But from early twilight, until late in the night,
They come out in the garden to play.
I know they are happy; their tones are so snappy;
Though I can’t understand what they say;
For they warble and croak ‘til it seems they would choke.
Bet it’s love in a sort of a way.
I found there one day, where the weeds dried away,
A shrub that was trying to live.
I saw at a glance, that it hadn’t a chance;
Not a penny for it would I give.
But by the sun’s gentle light, and the dews of the night,
It was nourished, and early that fall
It filled in a bed like an ocean of red;
The most beautiful Rose of them all.
I walk down a street that is not very neat;
Where the houses are faded and gray.
There are little bare-feet that play in the street;
There are little young hearts that are gay.
And the laughter and mirth are the sweetest on earth;
And my garden I try to recall.
And I wonder tonight, if among them there might be
The Fairest Young Rose of them all.
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