If you could see them now,
In bloom, like the morning summer’s rain
You’d smile and laugh at their petals,
Like yours when winter came.
When winter came sweet flower,
Sweet sorrow, trial and woe,
You raised your noble head to greet it;
The wind, and rain, and snow.
And shivering, near senseless,
Your petals fell and died
So that summer’s bloom might,
In your memory, waft perfume to the skies.
But you didn’t know all that,
As you braved the wind and rain.
How could you? But could you,
You’d see all was not in vain.
Greet winter and dejection,
If that your season be
With ‘glorious pride and sorrow’;
‘Your old immortal dreams’.
To bloom in winter’s not an error;
No fluke of cruel fate,
Just an irony of history;
Your task, your work remains.
Wait not for summer,
But bring summer on.
Not by fluttering your petals,
Force people to be strong.
Force to beat back the darkness,
So that light may shine through
Show principle to be powerful
And the pragmatics will shed their dew
Alas safe passage,
Written in your Red Roses Blood
The bouquet of liberal harmony
Will rise out of the mud.
And bloom and bloom they’ll stand
Proud and tall and free.
Better late than never,
But all the same to thee.
Spring by any means,
Summer must have its day.
For you’ve never been one
To let winter and bullies get away.
Tenderness tout court
Means morality on a larger scale
No excuses for your actions
But inaction, all the same.