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'!

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?

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.

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.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

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

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

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

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

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?