The Fairest Young Rose of Them All

by George Albert Leddy

Down in my garden, close by the fence;

Where the thistles and cockle-burs grow.

Where the ground is so rough, and the sod is so tough,

It’s defiant to shovel and hoe.

Yet, the hummingbirds hum, and the honeybees come;

And I know there must be sweetness there.

The foliage is wild, yet the fragrance is mild;

There’s a beauty about it that’s rare.

There the frog and the toad make their secret abode;

They sleep through the heat of the day.

But from early twilight until late in the night,

They come out in the garden to play.

I know they are happy, their tones are so snappy;

Though, I can’t understand what they say.

For they warble and croak, till it seems they would choke;

Bet it’s love in a sort of a way.

I found there one day where the weeds dried away,

A shrub that was trying to live.

I saw at a glance, that it hadn’t a chance;

Not a penny for it would I give.

But by the sun’s gentle light, and the dews of the night;

It was nourished, and early that Fall;

It filled in a bed, like an ocean of red;

The most beautiful Rose of them all.

I walk down a street that is not very neat;

Where the houses are faded and gray.

There are little bare-feet that play in the street;

There are little young hearts that are gay.

And the laughter and mirth, are the sweetest on earth;

And my garden, I try to recall;

And I wonder tonight, if among them there might be

"The Fairest Young Rose of Them All.”

*****