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  •   26  /  18  

    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.

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  28  /  32  

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!

by Robert Burns Found in: Roses Quotes,
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  16  /  33  

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

by Bidpai (pilpay) Found in: Roses Quotes,
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  30  /  34  

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.

by Rose Terry Cooke Found in: Roses Quotes,
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  31  /  22  

"For if I wait," said she,
"Till time for roses be,--
For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
read more

"For if I wait," said she,
"Till time for roses be,--
For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
Maiden-blush and royal-dusk rose,--
"What glory then for me
In such a company?--
Roses plenty, roses plenty
And one nightingale for twenty?"

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  15  /  25  

She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.

She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.

by Thomas Haynes Bayly Found in: Roses Quotes,
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  24  /  35  

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet read more

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet bonnie mou'!

by Robert Burns Found in: Roses Quotes,
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  14  /  34  

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.

by Maria Brooks Found in: Roses Quotes,
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  18  /  25  

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with read more

'Twas a yellow rose,
By that south window of the little house,
My cousin Romney gathered with his hand
On all my birthdays, for me. save the last;
And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough,
For roses to stay after.

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  26  /  22  

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

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