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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116304" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Women and Roses</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dream of a red-rose tree.<br>And which of its roses three<br>Is the dearest rose to me?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Round and round, like a dance of snow<br>In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go<br>Floating the women faded for ages,<br>Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages.<br>Then follow women fresh and gay,<br>Living and loving and loved to-day.<br>Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,<br>Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence,<br>They circle their rose on my rose tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear rose, thy term is reached,<br>Thy leaf hangs loose and bleached:<br>Bees pass it unimpeached.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stay then, stoop, since I cannot climb,<br>You, great shapes of the antique time!<br>How shall I fix you, fire you, freeze you,<br>Break my heart at your feet to please you?<br>Oh, to possess and be possessed!<br>Hearts that beat 'neath each pallid breast!<br>Once but of love, the poesy, the passion,<br>Drink but once and die!—In vain, the same fashion,<br>They circle their rose on my rose tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear rose, thy joy's undimmed,<br>Thy cup is ruby-rimmed,<br>Thy cup's heart nectar-brimmed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deep, as drops from a statue's plinth<br>The bee sucked in by the hyacinth,<br>So will I bury me while burning,<br>Quench like him at a plunge my yearning,<br>Eyes in your eyes, lips on your lips!<br>Fold me fast where the cincture slips,<br>Prison all my soul in eternities of pleasure,<br>Girdle me for once! But no—the old measure,<br>They circle their rose on my rose tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear rose without a thorn,<br>Thy bud's the babe unborn:<br>First streak of a new morn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wings, lend wings for the cold, the clear!<br>What is far conquers what is near.<br>Roses will bloom nor want beholders,<br>Sprung from the dust where our flesh moulders.<br>What shall arrive with the cycle's change?<br>A novel grace and a beauty strange.<br>I will make an Eve, be the artist that began her,<br>Shaped her to his mind!—Alas! in like manner<br>They circle their rose on my rose tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a> from <i>Men and Women</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116304" data-title="Women and Roses de Robert Browning" data-description="I/I dream of a red-rose tree./And which of its roses three/Is the dearest rose to me?//II/Round and round, like a dance of snow/In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go/Floating the women faded for ages,/Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages./..."></div>
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