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

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

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.

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

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.

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

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

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

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.

I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose.
[Fr., Je ne suis pas la rose, read more

I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose.
[Fr., Je ne suis pas la rose, mais j'ai vecu pres d'elle.]