The honeysuckle grows and grows,

It stretches forth and spreads.

It climbs the wall, crawls over all,

Then catapults the ledge.

Men cut it back, burn it down,

Pluck it up by roots...

But come the spring and a sunny day,

Lo!  Up again it shoots!

There is no competition

For the fragrance that it brings.

Its sweet aroma fills the air

And wafts on windy wings.

Lord, grant for me just one request

As I petition Thee,

That in this human jungle

I a honeysuckle be.

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Again, you have done your magic. Where I knew Honeysuckle, there was alway accompanying Rhododendron, and not far away, a bitter-cold flowing spring. You constantly refresh me like that memory. Thanks.