The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.

The full-blown rose, mid dewy sweets
Most perfect dies.

She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.

She wore a wreath of roses,
The night that first we met.

'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.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

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.

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.

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

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

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.