• It bloomed in winter-- that rose I uncovered,
    A certain felicity inside me incurred.
    To my surprise that barren shrub of blight
    Had such eloquence, such beauty, giving me delight
    That pink and yellow in a field of white.

    To me this event seemed absurd
    For how could this creation have ever occurred?
    Its demure and delicacy by its own right
    It bloomed in Winter.

    This rose so lucky to have been preferred
    But wait, this flower's bud is turned inward
    And soon I realized this poor rose's plight
    To be alone in the deafness of night
    To know only solitude, a voice barely whispered.
    It bloomed in Winter.