Do not dismiss the rose,
or turn your back on the setting sun,
or fear a word in favor of larks
will brand you materialist.
The beauties we see and hear
seem matter-born and bound,
but they hint at the glory that is there
beyond the bud on the cherry tree,
beyond the butterfly wing and the star,
on the far far side of the dove.
Do not gainsay the arts,
fearing the passions' stirring
to sound and sights that can quicken the heart.
Bring new "ears" to a note,
fresh "eyes" to a brush of paint,
follow the poem's path
to seek for a softer scene,
and up goes the curtain, up
on God's matchless world
where form and color, scent and song,
and all delights that to us belong
are spiritual and divine.
Do not dismiss the rose.
It is a promise.
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