A queer flower, not delicate though small,

is the sweet scented bloom of the dog rose,

placed carefully in its sharply-thorned wall.

‏‏‎ ‎

Come summer, in blooming it does not stall,

and stands, whatever at it the world throws;

a queer flower, not delicate though small.

‏‏‎ ‎

Wearing its simple beauty like a shawl,

the dog rose its loveliness to all shows,

placed carefully in its sharply-thorned wall.

‏‏‎ ‎

That bush of heavy thorns may spread and sprawl

but, serene, the blossom stays in its pose —

a queer flower, not delicate though small.

‏‏‎ ‎

Ever can it hold the world in its thrall

all passers-by the lovely flower slows,

placed carefully in its sharply-thorned wall.

‏‏‎ ‎

And whilst come autumn the pink petals fall,

always anyone who have seen it knows

a queer flower, not delicate though small;

placed carefully in its sharply wall.

‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎