Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
But pale, read more

O rose, who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet,
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubblewheat,--
Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.

I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place read more

I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place me on that breast of snow
Where I should bloom a wintry flower.

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

The rose that all are praising
Is not the rose for me.

The rose that all are praising
Is not the rose for me.

When love came first to earth, the Spring
Spread rose-beds to receive him.

When love came first to earth, the Spring
Spread rose-beds to receive him.

Go pretty rose, go to my fair,
Go tell her all I fain would dare,
Tell her read more

Go pretty rose, go to my fair,
Go tell her all I fain would dare,
Tell her of hope; tell her of spring,
Tell her of all I fain would sing,
Oh! were I like thee, so fair a thing.

Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.

Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.