The Rose of Chyann is a beautiful rose
That grows in the wilderness beneath the trees,
Its memories float high over all our country roads,
Fluttering its leaves, dancing elegantly in the breeze.
Sweeping along in the cool thoughtful margin of the day
Thousands of people will see her at a tender glance,
Her colors tinkle in the inward eye along the way,
And make a theatre to bring our heart great romance.
Other flowers try to outwit her sparkling waves
They stand to gaze but look bewildered and amazed.
In the vacant glazed that flash across the eyes,
A continuous line of stars the ambiance embraced.
That wealth of beauty which grows along the grassy verge
And fragrance spread her breath under green boughs,
That seemed as if they laugh with the wind that surge
Looking so gay, floating in the distant on parade meadows.
There a host of roses stretch along in rows of endless lines
Vases arranged in bouquet of beautiful flowers to impart,
Refined art, remain the sacred chimes, for special times
Every rose has a meaning opening windows to your heart.
We stop by to watch pools of bright colors fill up the garden,
Between the snowy day and every bleak and darken evening,
Dowry flakes harness the promises nature had taken,
Makes the unprintable portrait of something more lasting.
Unbowed in death, beyond the place of wreath and tears,
Looms the Rose of Chyann sprawled in comforting shade,
And yet find illusive fate a master of the menacing years,
In matters of faith roses clutch every circumstance unafraid.
Unknown thrills of deepening bliss dip into the sun- wings rays,
And trade the trodden age unglazed with her soft breeze
Passing through stages where the former stagnant air stays,
Having a better robe for a fragrance to wear in the path of ease.
The Rose of Chyann enchant my heart with pleasure fills
Abundant moods of inward solitude and matrimonial bliss,
In such a sprightly company there life mystery wishfully dwells
And stay immaculately nostalgic in the mind of happiness.