Hello natural beauties! Flowers and fragrance never get old! Looking for inspiration, I’ve found some lovely poetry about roses. Continuing on from last week’s An Afternoon with Roses I hope you enjoy this romantic interlude …..
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The Rose Family by Robert Frost
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only know
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose–
But were always a rose.
The Grave and The Rose by Victor Hugo
The Grave said to the Rose,
“What of the dews of dawn,
Love’s flower, what end is theirs?”
“And what of spirits flown,
The souls whereon doth close
The tomb’s mouth unawares?”
The Rose said to the Grave.
The Rose said, “In the shade
From the dawn’s tears is made
A perfume faint and strange,
Amber and honey sweet.”
“And all the spirits fleet
Do suffer a sky-change,
More strangely than the dew,
To God’s own angels new,”
The Grave said to the Rose.
Rose is the Queen of oils
A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it ware ten thousand mile.
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Nobody knows this little Rose by Emily Dickinson
Nobody knows this little Rose —
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it —
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey —
On its breast to lie —
Only a Bird will wonder —
Only a Breeze will sigh —
Ah Little Rose — how easy
For such as thee to die!
A bunch of mixed roses in a cafe. The large pink rose had a mild scent but the little white ones didn’t
Stanzas to the Rose by Mary Darby Robinson
SWEET PICTURE of Life’s chequer’d hour!
Ah, wherefore droop thy blushing head?
Tell me, oh tell me, hap’less flow’r,
Is it because thy charms are fled?
Come, gentle ROSE, and learn from me
A lesson of Philosophy.
Thy scented buds, LIFE’S joys disclose;
They strew our paths with magic sweets;
Where many a thorn like thine, fair ROSE,
Full oft the weary wand’rer meets;
And when he sees thy charms depart,
He feels thy thorn within his heart.
When Morn’s bright torch illum’d the sky,
Vainly thy flaunting buds display’d
Enamell’d leaves of crimson die,
Ill-fated blossoms doom’d to fade;
So ’tis with BEAUTY, hapless flow’r,
Its lustre blooms but for an hour.
Come blushing ROSE, and on my breast
Recline thy gentle head, and die;
Thy scatter’d leaves shall there be press’d,
Bath’d with a tear from PITY’S eye;
There shall thy balmy sweets impart
An essence grateful to my heart.
Thus SYMPATHY, with lenient pow’r,
Shall bid thy fading charms bestow
Soft odours for life’s happy hour,
Kind, healing balsam for its woe!
If such thy virtues, ROSE DIVINE!
OH ! MAY THY ENVIED FATE BE MINE
Beautiful rose in Wellington Botanic Gardens
Who doesn’t love roses?
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