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 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.]

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

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?

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.

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.

Red as a rose of Harpocrate.