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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.
Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.
Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.
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'!
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!
She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.
She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.
Red as a rose of Harpocrate.
Red as a rose of Harpocrate.
The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.
The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.
He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.
He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.
A white rosebud for a guerdon.
A white rosebud for a guerdon.
