PN;6110;.L6;L

OLLIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

 

PRESENTED BY

EDGAR WOODS, JR.SAABE9

foagl Hy Kod CYO, lovely Rose;
Tell her that wastes

her time and me,
That now she knows,
When | resemble her

to thee

How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Waller.

Of all flowers
Methinks «: ose is Hest «2-440 4 4
It is the very emblem of a maid;
For when the west wind courts her gently,
How modestly she blows and paints the sun
With her chaste blushes.
Beaumont & Fletcher.

Sometimes, when on the Alpine rose
The golden sunset leaves its ray,

So like a gem the flow’rlet glows,
We thither bend our headlong way;

) And though we find no treasure there,

| We bless the rose that shines so fair.

| Moore.

 

Copyright, 1908, by Berger Publishing Company.eeee?/OSE of the desert! thou
4 art to me
An emblem of stainless _
purity,—
Of those who, keeping
their garments white,
Walk on through life
with steps aright.
D), f2. Beir.

VVhen Summer cometh,
Full-leaved and strong,
And gay birds gossip
The orchard long,—
Sing rich, sweet honey
That no bee sips,
Sing red, red roses,
And my love’s lips.
Austin Dobson.

Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!
Burns.

Ret cae es
fess

Paro :
as” eee

eee es
f

1E are blushing Roses,
Bending with our fulness,
‘Midst our close-capped

sister buds

Warming the green coolness.

Whatsoe’er of beauty

Yearns and yet reposes,—

Blush and bosom and sweet breath
Took a shape in roses.

Hold one of us lightly,
See from what a slender

Stalk we bowed in heavy blooms,
And roundness rich and tender.

Know you not one only
Rival flower,— the human ?
Loveliest weight on lightest foot;
Joy — abundant woman ?
Leigh Hunt.

The rose that lives its little hour
Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
Bryant.ONG, long be my heart with
such memories filled!
Like the vase in which roses
have once been distilled. —
You may break, you may
shatter the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will
hang ‘round 1t still!
Moore.

 
   
   
   
 
 

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

Oh, my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June. Burns.

The garden rose may richly bloom

In cultured soil and genial air;
‘To cloud the light of Fashion’s room

Or droop in Beauty's midnight hair;
In lonelier grace, to sun and dew

The sweet-brier in the hillside shows
Its single leaf and fainter hue,

Untrained and wildly free, yet still

A sister rose.

Watttier.ROSE | the sweetest blossom,
Of Spring the fairest flower,
rose! the joy of heaven.
The God of Love,

with roses
His yellow’ locks adorning,
Dances with the hours and graces.
J, &. Percival,

 
   
 
    
 
 

  

 
   
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
   

I wish | might a rosebud grow,
And thou wouldst cull me from
a bower,
‘To place me on that breast of snow,
VWVhere | should bloom a wintry flower.
Dionysius.

Go, happy rose, and, interwove

With other flowers, bind my love.

Tell her, too, she must not be

Longer flowing, longer free,

That so oft has fettered me. Herrick.

 

The rosebuds lay their crimson lips
together. Amelia B. Welby.UST like love is yonder rose:— ™
Heavenly fragrance ‘round
it throws,

Yet tears its dewy leaves
a disclose,

And in the midst of briers it blows;
Just like love.

From the French of J’ Amours.

  

How fair is the Rose, what a beautiful

flower,
The glory of April and May!
But the leaves are beginning to fade
in an hour,
And they wither and die in a day.
Yet the rose has one powerful virtue
to boast,
Above all the flowers of the field;
WVhen its leaves are all dead, and
fine colours are lost.
Still how sweet a perfume it will yield!
Isaac Watts,

A white rosebud for a guerdon. d
E. B. Browning, 2mOST glorious rose,
You are the queenly belle.
On you all eyes admiring turn.
Doubtless you might
indite,
Romances from your own sweet history.
Mrs. Sigourney.

First of all the rose, because its breath
Is rich beyond the rest; and when it dies
It doth bequeath a charm to sweeten death.

E. B. Browning.

"Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone. Moore.

I am the one rich thing that morn
Leaves for the ardent noon to win;
Grasp me not, | have a thorn,
But bend and take my being in.
Harriet Prescott Spottord,

mS 2NCE more, to show
I ne'er forget,
Goes forth a greeting true,
And here, in rose-leaf
fragrance set,
A wish | waft to you,

e e e e e e e ° e e e e

May roses eer your pathway strew
Throughout a happy year,
And may some bright hope come to you
For every leaf that’s here.
Lillis Walton.

We bring roses, beautiful fresh roses,
Dewy as the morning and colored like
the dawn;
Little tents of odour, where the bee reposes,
Swooning in sweetness of the bed he
dreams upon. Zhomas Buchanan Read.

_|s there any moral shut

 

Within the bosom of the rose? Tennyson.