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.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet read more

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

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
read more

And thus, what can we do,
Poor rose and poet too,
Who both antedate our mission
In an unprepared season?

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.

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?

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

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

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.