This I know, roses thrive where roses grow
though yours in me defies my inner sighs
blooms, in a singular defining light;
rose within my mind your shining bow.

I know more, roses lose their grounds and bow
though yours in me denies my lowly lies
ignites them into life beyond disguise
defrost my eyes with lines you sow in rows.

I know even more, or less, fore sure,
that vaguely realigns me, into a lure:
to pluck the plant you rose in me, in vain?

I know now I know no more than what's
writ' before, shrink'd into I know nuts;
a grain though, a spire, within your reign.