Site hosted by Build your free website today!


by Isabelle Barton

I grew up on a farm in Missouri. My sister and brother and I hoed in the fields of corn and cotton. The crabgrass and weeds were so deeply rooted that it took a lot of hard work to keep them thinned down, so they wouldn't choke out the crop.

The inspiration to write the below poem, "With Each Rose There Comes a Thorn," came from this experience - It was like being presented with a rose when the rains came, allowing us to leave the field, but as though a thorn had pierced us when we returned to find the grass and weeds had grown to twice their size.

The green corn grew but 'round it growing too,
Was grass and weeds, which almost covered it from view.
Two girls, one boy hoeing there in the field of corn,
Young bodies aching, toiling since the early morn.

"Please God, some rain." They scanned the skies, and yet again,
But still the sun shone on, no rain, no rain.
Shoulders drooping, young hearts prayed again,
Hot sun was hid behind dark clouds, then came the rain.

No more hoeing in the field that day,
Hot sun all gone, cool rain now had its way.
Home through the rain they ran, two girls and one small boy,
Now rest could come, young hearts were filled with joy.

Gone too soon the night and dawn embraced....
The world, and seemed to say, make haste, make haste.
Returning to the field again with hoes,
The children saw the corn in rows and rows....

Had grown. But, oh, sad sight that met young eyes,
The grass and weeds had grown to twice their size.
Oh, young hearts to rise on some sad morn,
And find that with each rose there comes a thorn.

Composed by Isabelle Barton
May 9, 1967