Roses

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

— Roses

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

— Roses

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

— Roses

Roses were sette of swete savour,With many roses that thei bere.

— Roses

Till the rose's lips grow paleWith her sighs.

— Roses

I wish I might a rose-bud growWhere I should bloom a wintry flower.

— Roses

O beautiful, royal Rose,Without the Clay at thy feet?

— Roses

Oh, raise your deep-fringed lids that closeYou wore but last night at the ball.

— Roses

In Heaven's happy bowersOne, and one refuse.

— Roses

It is written on the rose"Passing away."

— Roses

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,And thou must die.

— Roses

Roses at first were white,Or they more white sho'd be.

— Roses

But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

— Roses

He came and took me by the hand,And His own face to see.

— Roses

It was not in the winterWe pluck'd them as we pass'd.

— Roses

Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to streetShe hates the smell of roses.

— Roses

And the guelder roseHer wealth about her feet.

— Roses

The roses that in yonder hedge appearUnmarked they bud, bloom, drop, and drift away.

— Roses

The vermeil rose had blownLike spiked aloe.

— Roses

But the rose leaves herself upon the brier,For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed.

— Roses

Woo on, with odour wooing me,Will bloom forevermore.

— Roses

And I will make thee beds of roses,And a thousand fragrant posies.

— Roses

Rose of the desert! thou art to meWalk on through life with steps aright.

— Roses

While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue,But coyly linger'd on the thorn.

— Roses

Two roses on one slender sprayAnd drank the evening dew.

— Roses

Sometimes, when on the Alpine roseWe bless the rose that shines so fair.

— Roses

Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd!But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

— Roses

There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream,To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.

— Roses

No flower of her kindred,Or give sigh for sigh.

— Roses

'Tis the last rose of summer,Left blooming alone.

— Roses

What would the rose with all her pride be worth,Were there no sun to call her brightness forth?

— Roses

Why do we shed the rose's bloomAffect the slumbering chill of death?

— Roses

Rose! thou art the sweetest flower,Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild.

— Roses

Oh! there is naught in nature brightHer fingers burn with roseate dyes.

— Roses

The rose distils a healing balmThe beating pulse of pain to calm.

— Roses

Rose of the Desert! thus should woman beShining uncourted, lone and safe, like thee.

— Roses

Rose of the Garden! such is woman's lot—Worshipp'd while blooming—when she fades, forgot.

— Roses

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?

— Roses

O rose! the sweetest blossom,Dances with the hours and graces.

— Roses

The sweetest flower that blows,For me it is my heart.

— Roses

There was never a daughter of Eve but once, ere the tale of her years be done,The hour that brought her the scent of the Rose, she lived it in Paradise.

— Roses

There is no gathering the rose without being pricked by the thorns.

— Roses

Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,And liquid amber drop from every thorn.

— Roses

And when the parent-rose decays and dies,With a resembling face the daughter-buds arise.

— Roses

We bring roses, beautiful fresh roses,Swooning in sweetness of the bed he dreams upon.

— Roses

The rose saith in the dewy morn,Upon a thorn.

— Roses

I watched a rose-bud very longAnd fell at even-song.

— Roses

The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.

— Roses

From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.

— Roses

Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.

— Roses

There will we make our peds of roses,And a thousand fragrant posies.

— Roses

Hoary-headed frostsFall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.

— Roses

The red rose on triumphant brier.

— Roses

And the rose like a nymph to the bath addrest,The soul of her beauty and love lay bare.

— Roses

Should this fair rose offend thy sight,And turn Lancastrian there.

— Roses

I am the one rich thing that mornBut bend and take my being in.

— Roses

It was nothing but a rose I gave her,—Cannot make it old!

— Roses

The year of the rose is brief;To triumph and leave not a leaf.

— Roses

And half in shade and half in sun;With a passionate thrill in her crimson heart.

— Roses

And is there any moral shutWithin the bosom of the rose?

— Roses

The fairest things have fleetest end:To him that loved the rose!

— Roses

Go, lovely Rose!How sweet and fair she seems to be.

— Roses

How fair is the Rose! what a beautiful flower.Still how sweet a perfume it will yield!

— Roses

The rosebuds lay their crimson lips together.

— Roses

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered.

— Roses

The budding rose above the rose full blown.

— Roses

Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,And tumult of defeated dreams.

— Roses

I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,Its sweets upon the summer.

— Roses

And mid-May's eldest child,The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.

— Roses

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

— Roses

Wild-rose, Sweetbriar, Eglantine,Pure as dew, and pick'd as wine.

— Roses

Rain-scented eglantineGave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun.

— Roses

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

— Roses

As through the verdant mazeOr taste the smell of dairy.

— Roses

The garden rose may richly bloomUntrained and wildly free, yet still a sister rose!

— Roses

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

— Roses

A brier rose, whose budsYield fragrant harvest for the honey bee.

— Roses

A waft from the roadside bankTells where the wild rose nods.

— Roses

O Rose thou art sick.In the howling storm:

— Roses

Has found out thy bedDoes thy life destroy.

— Roses

When we desire to confine our words, we commonly say they are spoken under the rose.

— Roses

This guelder rose, at far too slight a beckOf the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.

— Roses

'Twas a yellow rose,For roses to stay after.

— Roses

Oh, my Luve is like a red, red rose,That's sweetly played in tune.

— Roses

Give me one wish, and I'd be wassailing Or with my shepherd, who'll bring me home.

— Roses

This little girl inside me (For me.)

— Roses

I'll be the Rose of Sharon for you I'll do it for you...

— Roses

It never will rain roses: when we wantTo have more roses we must plant more trees.

— Roses

Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.

— Roses

You can't really measure the effect of this kind of resistance in whether or not X number of bridges were blown up or a regime fell... The White Rose really has a more symbolic value, but that's a very important value.

— Roses

The red rose whispers of passion,And the white rose is a dove.

— Roses

Every rose has its thornEvery rose has its thorn.

— Roses

Die of a rose in aromatic pain.

— Roses

God gave His children memoryJune roses in December.

— Roses

Red rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!

— Roses

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

— Roses

The rose that all are praisingIs not the rose for me.

— Roses

Go pretty rose, go to my fair,Oh! were I like thee, so fair a thing.

— Roses

Thus to the Rose, the Thistle:For asses might upon thee feed.

— Roses

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweetsMost perfect dies.

— Roses

O rose, who dares to name thee?Kept seven years in a drawer, thy titles shame thee.

— Roses

And thus, what can we do,In an unprepared season?

— Roses

For if I wait," said she,And one nightingale for twenty?

— Roses

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

— Roses

You smell a rose through a fence:If two should smell it, what matter?

— Roses

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

— Roses

All June I bound the rose in sheaves,Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

— Roses

Loveliest of lovely things are theyIs prized beyond the sculptured flower.

— Roses