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

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

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

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

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.

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!

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

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

Thus to the Rose, the Thistle:
Why art thou not of thistle-breed?
Of use thou'dst, then, be read more

Thus to the Rose, the Thistle:
Why art thou not of thistle-breed?
Of use thou'dst, then, be truly,
For asses might upon thee feed.

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

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

Loveliest of lovely things are they
On earth that soonest pass away.
The rose that lives its read more

Loveliest of lovely things are they
On earth that soonest pass away.
The rose that lives its little hour
Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.