<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384744" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Two Roses</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A humble wild-rose, pink and slender, <br> Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet, <br>Beside a Jacqueminot’s royal splendour, <br> And both in my lady’s boudoir lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said the haughty bud, in a tone of scorning, <br> ‘I wonder why you are called a rose? <br>Your leaves will fade in a single morning; <br> No blood of mine in your pale cheek glows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Your course green stalk shows dust of the highway, <br> You have no depths of fragrant bloom; <br>And what could you learn in a rustic byway<br> To fit you to lie in my lady’s room? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘If called to adorn her warm, white bosom, <br> What have you to offer for such a place, <br>Beside my fragrant and splendid blossom, <br> Ripe with colour and rich with grace? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said the sweet wild-rose, ‘Despite your dower<br> Of finer breeding and deeper hue, <br>Despite your beauty, fair, high-bred flower, <br> It is I who should lie on her breast, not you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘For small account is your hot-house glory<br> Beside the knowledge that came to me<br>When I heard by the wayside love’s old story<br> And felt the kiss of the amorous bee.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=384744" data-title="Two Roses de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="A humble wild-rose, pink and slender, Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet, Beside a Jacqueminot’s royal splendour, And both in my lady’s boudoir lay. Said the haughty bud, in a tone of scorning, ‘I wonder why you are called a ..."></div> </div> </div>

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