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The Rose that Bloomed Courageous
Far into in the distance
There stands a single hill
Where the wind blows o’er the heather
The poppies sway,
Then still.
There grows a single rose tree
All broken, blackened thorns
But once,
It bloomed courageous
Now it shivers unadorned.
Once, a maiden came here
And plucked a bloom to breathe
She smiled,
And she grew to love
That courageous,
Brave rose tree.
Throughout the years
She cared for it
It blossomed when she sang
And the wind blew o’er the heather
Just as it does today.
But when she died,
The roses blew
Far, far, away
The cruel wind stole its petals
And took its breath away.
For years stood the rose tree
Steadfast yet forlorn
For care and for affection
The broken rose did mourn.
Far off in the distance
There stands a single hill
Where the wind blows o’er the heather
The poppies sway,
Then still.
Out upon the moors there ran
A laughing little girl
And she ran up to the crest
Of that single, distant hill.
Curious, she looked about
And saw the broken rose
She stroked its thorns
And marked how much
Its weathered twigs had worn.
She pricked a gentle finger
But bravely didn’t cry,
Instead she hoped
The rose courageous
Was not about to die.
Then amongst the sword-sharp thorns
A tiny bud she spied
And she laughed aloud
And wondered
At how it had survived.
All the rose had needed
Was a little tender care
To bring about its blossoms
To flourish and to share.
If you go out upon the moors
you’ll find
A perfume on the air
And beneath a sprinkling of petals
The thriving rose tree there.
The rose that bloomed courageous
A beauty bold and fair.
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