Sonnet, My Sweetest Rose (From, The Lost Sonnets) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My sweetest rose of summer's morning neat,
With sky above so blue and far from sight;
Each of your line more perfect and compete,
Than anything that in this world is finite;
And all my love is likewise roses and buds,
Flowery shade that in autumn's complete;
Never to dry up like the earthy muds,
Only be in hearts sometimes bittersweet.
Wonderful flame of joys in this faint life,
Silent struggle between each day and night;
Every such a longing we need and is rife,
What will bring us on the road again right;
Summer sweetness so fresh in the morns air,
That all is everything we won't despair.