A Garden Rose . . .

 

 

 

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you its only seed.

 

 

It's the heart afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance.

It's the dream afraid of waking

That never takes the chance.

It's the one who won't be taken,

Who cannot seem to give,

and the soul afraid of dyin'

That never learns to live.

 

When the night has been too lonely

and the road has been too long,

And you think that love is only

for the lucky and for the strong,

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

Lies the seed that with the sun's love

In the spring becomes the rose.



 

The Rose

Bette Midler