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

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

'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.

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.]

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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'!