ROSA MYSTICA.

New Zealand Tablet, 10 July 1919, Page 13

ROSA MYSTICA.

[Our readers may be glad to see one of the poems illustrating, what the Poet-Laureate recalls an- exaggerated Mananism:;. and which he on that account excluded from his edition of the late Father Gerard Hopkins s poetry. It was first printed by Father Matthew Russell m the Irish Monthly for 1898, and is here reproduced by courtesy of his successor, the present editor The original MS. ; of ft the poet,,which is in our hands, shows that it was -only by dint of, frequent change that he. finally attained the perfect result.— The Month.'] ''The rose is ; a mystery"—where is it found? I

Is it anything true Does it grow upon ground? It was made of earth's mould, but it went from men's ~,. ..eyea,. ;- / v :' . f And its place is a secret and shut in the skies I In the gardens of Gael, in the daylight divine; % bind me a place by thee, mother of mine. |

But where was it formerly ?:, Which is the spot That was blest in it once, though now it is not? It is Galilee's growth : it* grew/ at God's will And broke into, bloom upon. Nazareth hill In the gardens of God, in the daylight divine, I shall look on thy loveliness, mother of mine.

What was its season then ? How long ago ? v When was the summer that saw the bud blow?? Two thousands of years are near upon past i Since its birth and its bloom and its breathing its last. In the gardens of God, in the daylight divine,', I shall keep time with thee, mother 'of mine.

Tell me the name now, tell me its name. The heart guesses easily is it the same? Mary the Virgin, well the heart knows, She is the mystery, she is that rose. In the gardens of God, in the daylight divine, L shall come home to thee, mother of mine.

Is Mary the rose then ? Mary, the tree ? But the blossom, the blossom there— can it, be Who can her rose be ? It could but be One Christ Jesus our Lord, her God and her son. ; In the gardens of God, in the daylight divine; Show me thy son, mother, mother of mine.

What was'the color of that blossom bright?— White to begin with, immaculate white" ''"\ But what a wild flush on the flakes of it stood I When the rose ran in crimsonings down the cross-wood !* In the gardens of God, in the daylight diving I shall worship His wounds with thee, mother of mine.

How many leaves had it?—Five they were then, Five, like the senses and members of men ; % Five is their number by Nature, but now They multiply, multiplywho can tell how? § In the gardens of God, in the daylight divine, Make me a leaf in thee, mother of mine. %

Does it smell sweet, too, in that holy place | Sweet unto God and the sweetness is grace : % The breath of it bathes great heaven above | In grace that is charity, grace that is love. § To thy breast, to thy rest, to thy glory divine% Draw me by charity, mother of mine. § —Gerard Hopkins.