Roses

"And is there any moral shut Within the bosom of the rose?"

"The fairest things have fleetest end: Their scent survives their close, But the rose's scent is bitterness To him that loved the rose!"

"Go, lovely Rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me That now she knows. When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be."

"How fair is the Rose! what a beautiful flower. The glory of April and May! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, And they wither and die in a day. Yet the Rose has one powerful virtue to boast, Above all the flowers of the field; When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost, Still how sweet a perfume it will yield!"

"Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered."

"The budding rose above the rose full blown."

"Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose, Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre Or in the wine vat, dwell beyond the stir And tumult of defeated dreams."

"I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields, A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw Its sweets upon the summer."

"And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes."

"The fresh eglantine exhaled a breath, Those odours were of power to raise from death."

"Wild-rose, Sweetbriar, Eglantine, All these pretty names are mine, And scent in every leaf is mine, And a leaf for all is mine, And the scent—Oh, that's divine! Happy-sweet and pungent fine, Pure as dew, and pick'd as wine."

"Rain-scented eglantine Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun."

"Its sides I'll plant with dew-sweet eglantine."

"As through the verdant maze Of sweetbriar hedges I pursue my walk; Or taste the smell of dairy."

"The garden rose may richly bloom In cultured soil and genial air, To cloud the light of Fashion's room Or droop in Beauty's midnight hair, In lonelier grace, to sun and dew The sweetbrier on the hillside shows Its single leaf and fainter hue, Untrained and wildly free, yet still a sister rose!"

"A wild rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree."

"A brier rose, whose buds Yield fragrant harvest for the honey bee."

"A waft from the roadside bank Tells where the wild rose nods."