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?

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.

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.

I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place read more

I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place me on that breast of snow
Where I should bloom a wintry flower.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

He that plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.

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

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

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

A white rosebud for a guerdon.

'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'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'!