Fidelity

JAMES N. HATCH

A rosebush grew by a crumbling wall
At the end of a lonely lane,
Where a solemn silence ruled o'er all
And the tangled grass and the weeds so tall
Withered for lack of rain.
But the rosebush bloomed all the summer through,
With each chalice upheld for the morning dew.
Away from the world was the rosebush there
And for years it had bloomed alone,
With no one to welcome the blossoms fair
And no one to breathe the fragrant air
Or to watch how the branches had grown.
But the rosebush heard not discouragement's call
And the blossoms hung thick on the moss-grown wall.
'Twas enough for the rose that the sun shone bright
And the dew fell soft and warm.
Its mission it was to reflect the light,
To gather sweet fragrance out of the night,
And strength from the buffeting storm.
To a higher power 'twas left to decree
What the blossoms should find as their destiny.

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