He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

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

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

'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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

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

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

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!