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Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
Roses grow on thorns and honey wears a sting.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
You have but fed on the roses, and lain in the lilies of life.
You have but fed on the roses, and lain in the lilies of life.
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest.
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest.
Who could tell such a story with dry eyes?
Who could tell such a story with dry eyes?
They do not love that do not show their love.
They do not love that do not show their love.
Breathes there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach their course to steer,
Yet run himself read more
Breathes there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach their course to steer,
Yet run himself life's mad career
Wild as the wave?
His essences turn the live air sick.
His essences turn the live air sick.
