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.

"For if I wait," said she,
"Till time for roses be,--
For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
read more

"For if I wait," said she,
"Till time for roses be,--
For the moss-rose and the musk-rose,
Maiden-blush and royal-dusk rose,--
"What glory then for me
In such a company?--
Roses plenty, roses plenty
And one nightingale for twenty?"

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

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

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

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

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

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

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.

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

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