In The Rose Garden
RED roses bright, pink roses and white
That bud and blossom and fall;
The very sight of my heart's delight
Is more than worth them all!
Is worth far more than the whole sweet store
That ever a garden grew--
She plucked the best to die at her breast,
But it laughed and it bloomed anew!
The red rose lay at her lips to-day,
And flushed with the joy thereof;
She said a word that the white rose heard,
And the white rose paled with love.
But the west wind blows, and my lady goes,
And she leaves the world forlorn;
And every rose that the garden grows,
Might just as well be a thorn!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Related quotes
Winter Sunset
Roses in the sky,
Roses in the sea
Bowers of scarlet sky-roses
Take my heart and me.
God was good to make,
This December weather,
All this sky a rose-garden,
Rose and fire together.
To the East are burning
Roses in a garden,
Roses in a rosy field,
Hesper for their warden.
Yonder to the West
Roses all afire,
Mirror now some rare splendid
Rose of their desire.
Pulsing deeper, deeper,
Waves of fire throb on,
Never were such red roses
At sunset or dawn.
Roses on the hills,
Roses in the hollow,
Roses on the wet hedges,
In the shining fallow.
West wind, blow and blow!
That has blown ajar
Gates of God's great rose-garden,
Where His Angels are,
Gathering up the rose-leaves
For a shower of roses
On the night the Lord Babe
His sweet eye uncloses.
All the sky is scarlet
Flaming on the azure.
O, there's fire in Heaven
My heart aches with pleasure.
Leagues of rose and scarlet,
Roses red as blood:
All the world's a rose-garden.
God is good, is good.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Sweet Perfume
A rose arose with rosy hue,
And made my torn heart, so sparkling new,
A rose arose as roses do,
And warmth for its guise within me grew.
A rose arose with beauty bright,
And gladdened my heart with such delight,
A rose arose as roses might,
And set out great charm before my sight.
A rose arose with summertime,
And imbued my heart with songs sublime,
A rose arose as roses climb,
And showed itself in all its prime.
A rose arose inside the room,
And lifted my heart so full of gloom,
A rose arose as roses bloom,
And fused the air with its sweet perfume.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Where Are Your Roses
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
A blooming rose pricks me with its horn andI let a cry sweet,
”Oh rose I love you”.
In this garden of pests and reptiles
Who grows this rose of just one thorn?
That is born to prick me alone?
Never do I get an answer
But the gardener throws a smile at me.
He thinks that I love this rose.
An idea springs off at last and
An answer redeems me at times.
There is no rose without a thorn.
Tell me friends, where are your roses?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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To Muriel: at the Opera
Roses and rose-buds, red and white,
Nestled between your breasts to-night,
And, lying there with drowsy breath,
Sweetly resigned themselves to death.
Ah, cruel child! that would not so
Suffer the perfumed life to go,
But, hungering for the rose's heart
Of midmost sweetness, plucked apart
Petal from petal: 'Ah!' you said
(With lips that kissed white roses red)
'To live on love and roses!'
Well,
But if the rose were Muriel?
poem by Arthur Symons
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Bridal Eve
GOOD-NIGHT, my Heart, my Heart, good-night--
Oh, good and dear and fair,
With lips of life and eyes of light
And roses in your hair.
To-morrow brings the other crown,
The orange blossoms, Sweet,
And then the rose will be cast down
With lilies at your feet.
But in your soul a garden stands
Where fair the white rose blows--
God, teach my foolish clumsy hands
The way to tend my rose.
That in the white-rose garden still
The lily may bloom fair
God help my heart and soul and will
To keep the lily there.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Margaret's Bridal Eve
I
The old grey mother she thrummed on her knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
And which of the handsome young men shall it be?
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
My daughter, come hither, come hither to me:
There is a rose that's ready;
Come, point me your finger on him that you see:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O mother, my mother, it never can be:
There is a rose that's ready;
For I shall bring shame on the man marries me:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
Now let your tongue be deep as the sea:
There is a rose that's ready;
And the man'll jump for you, right briskly will he:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
Tall Margaret wept bitterly:
There is a rose that's ready;
And as her parent bade did she:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O the handsome young man dropped down on his knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
Pale Margaret gave him her hand, woe's me!
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
II
O mother, my mother, this thing I must say:
There is a rose in the garden;
Ere he lies on the breast where that other lay:
And the bird sings over the roses.
Now, folly, my daughter, for men are men:
There is a rose in the garden;
You marry them blindfold, I tell you again:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O mother, but when he kisses me!
There is a rose in the garden;
My child, 'tis which shall sweetest be!
And the bird sings over the roses.
O mother, but when I awake in the morn!
There is a rose in the garden;
My child, you are his, and the ring is worn:
And the bird sings over the roses.
Tall Margaret sighed and loosened a tress:
There is a rose in the garden;
Poor comfort she had of her comeliness
And the bird sings over the roses.
My mother will sink if this thing be said:
There is a rose in the garden;
That my first betrothed came thrice to my bed;
And the bird sings over the roses.
He died on my shoulder the third cold night:
There is a rose in the garden;
I dragged his body all through the moonlight:
And the bird sings over the roses.
But when I came by my father's door:
There is a rose in the garden;
I fell in a lump on the stiff dead floor:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O neither to heaven, nor yet to hell:
There is a rose in the garden;
Could I follow the lover I loved so well!
And the bird sings over the roses.
III
The bridesmaids slept in their chambers apart:
There is a rose that's ready;
Tall Margaret walked with her thumping heart:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
The frill of her nightgown below the left breast:
There is a rose that's ready;
Had fall'n like a cloud of the moonlighted West:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
But where the West-cloud breaks to a star:
There is a rose that's ready;
Pale Margaret's breast showed a winding scar:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O few are the brides with such a sign!
There is a rose that's ready;
Though I went mad the fault was mine:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
I must speak to him under this roof to-night:
There is a rose that's ready;
I shall burn to death if I speak in the light:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O my breast! I must strike you a bloodier wound:
There is a rose that's ready;
Than when I scored you red and swooned:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
I will stab my honour under his eye:
There is a rose that's ready;
Though I bleed to the death, I shall let out the lie:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O happy my bridesmaids! white sleep is with you!
There is a rose that's ready;
Had he chosen among you he might sleep too!
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O happy my bridesmaids! your breasts are clean:
There is a rose that's ready;
You carry no mark of what has been!
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
IV
An hour before the chilly beam:
Red rose and white in the garden;
The bridegroom started out of a dream:
And the bird sings over the roses.
He went to the door, and there espied:
Red rose and white in the garden;
The figure of his silent bride:
And the bird sings over the roses.
He went to the door, and let her in:
Red rose and white in the garden;
Whiter looked she than a child of sin:
And the bird sings over the roses.
She looked so white, she looked so sweet:
Red rose and white in the garden;
She looked so pure he fell at her feet:
And the bird sings over the roses.
He fell at her feet with love and awe:
Red rose and white in the garden;
A stainless body of light he saw:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O Margaret, say you are not of the dead!
Red rose and white in the garden;
My bride! by the angels at night are you led?
And the bird sings over the roses.
I am not led by the angels about:
Red rose and white in the garden;
But I have a devil within to let out:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O Margaret! my bride and saint!
Red rose and white in the garden;
There is on you no earthly taint:
And the bird sings over the roses.
I am no saint, and no bride can I be:
Red rose and while in the garden;
Until I have opened my bosom to thee:
And the bird sings over the roses.
To catch at her heart she laid one hand:
Red rose and white in the garden;
She told the tale where she did stand:
And the bird sings over the roses.
She stood before him pale and tall:
Red rose and white in the garden;
Her eyes between his, she told him all:
And the bird sings over the roses.
She saw how her body grow freckled and foul:
Red rose and white in the garden;
She heard from the woods the hooting owl:
And the bird sings over the roses.
With never a quiver her mouth did speak:
Red rose and white in the garden;
O when she had done she stood so meek!
And the bird sings over the roses.
The bridegroom stamped and called her vile:
Red rose and white in the garden;
He did but waken a little smile:
And the bird sings over the roses.
The bridegroom raged and called her foul:
Red rose and white in the garden;
She heard from the woods the hooting owl:
And the bird sings over the roses.
He muttered a name full bitter and sore:
Red rose and white in the garden;
She fell in a lump on the still dead floor:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O great was the wonder, and loud the wail:
Red rose and white in the garden;
When through the household flew the tale:
And the bird sings over the roses.
The old grey mother she dressed the bier:
Red rose and white in the garden;
With a shivering chin and never a tear:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O had you but done as I bade you, my child!
Red rose and white in the garden;
You would not have died and been reviled:
And the bird sings over the roses.
The bridegroom he hung at midnight by the bier:
Red rose and white in the garden;
He eyed the white girl thro' a dazzling tear:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O had you been false as the women who stray:
Red rose and white in the garden;
You would not be now with the Angels of Day!
And the bird sings over the roses.
poem by George Meredith
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White rose, red
Take my white rose
White rose, red
Love everlasting
Even when dead
Kiss my white rose
White rose, red
In which love flows
In what is said
Cry on my white rose
White rose, red
Always there to be with you
And comfort you when sad
Love my white rose
White rose, red
So I may forever be with you
Loving you with the symbol
White rose...
White rose stained blood red
(Xanxus)
poem by Giotto Vongola
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Pink Flowers.
Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?
This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?
Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?
(Dedicated for my pink flower date)
poem by Aron Lelei
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Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)
Rose, Rose(by Henrry Zhou)
Rose, Rose
Love you, without words.
When I touch your waist,
Close to your lips.
Rose, Rose
Kisses are what you send to me.
Endless mythical dream
Every kiss seems to be
Rose, rose
Aren’t you the waves of the red wine
Of the first night in a wedding?
In your soft heart
slipped the lovers’ laughs and tears.
Love you, Rose
Light vortex, pink whorls
full of a garden I wish to plant Roses
Even waking to be a sad nightmare
Still I will hold you.
O, Rose, my dear Rose
poem by Henrry Zhou
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Under The Ivy
It wouldn't take me long
To tell you how to find it
To tell you where we'll meet
This little girl inside me
Is retreating to her favourite place
Go into the garden, go under the ivy
Under the leaves, away from the party
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
I sit here in the thunder
The green on the gray
I feel it all around me
And it's not easy for me
To give away a secret
It's not safe
To go into the garden, go under the ivy
Under the leaves, away from the party
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
Go into the garden, go under the ivy
Go under the leaves with me
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
I'll be waiting for you
It wouldn't take me long
To tell you how to find it
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before the Mirror
I.
WHITE ROSE in red rose-garden
Is not so white;
Snowdrops that plead for pardon
And pine for fright
Because the hard East blows
Over their maiden rows
Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.
Behind the veil, forbidden,
Shut up from sight,
Love, is there sorrow hidden,
Is there delight?
Is joy thy dower or grief,
White rose of weary leaf,
Late rose whose life is brief, whose loves are light?
Soft snows that hard winds harden
Till each flake bite
Fill all the flowerless garden
Whose flowers took flight
Long since when summer ceased,
And men rose up from feast,
And warm west wind grew east, and warm day night.
II.
“Come snow, come wind or thunder
High up in air,
I watch my face, and wonder
At my bright hair;
Nought else exalts or grieves
The rose at heart, that heaves
With love of her own leaves and lips that pair.
“She knows not loves that kissed her
She knows not where.
Art thou the ghost, my sister,
White sister there,
Am I the ghost, who knows?
My hand, a fallen rose,
Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.
“I cannot see what pleasures
Or what pains were;
What pale new loves and treasures
New years will bear;
What beam will fall, what shower,
What grief or joy for dower;
But one thing knows the flower; the flower is fair.”
III.
Glad, but not flushed with gladness,
Since joys go by;
Sad, but not bent with sadness,
Since sorrows die;
Deep in the gleaming glass
She sees all past things pass,
And all sweet life that was lie down and lie.
There glowing ghosts of flowers
Draw down, draw nigh;
And wings of swift spent hours
Take flight and fly;
She sees by formless gleams,
She hears across cold streams,
Dead mouths of many dreams that sing and sigh.
Face fallen and white throat lifted,
With sleepless eye
She sees old loves that drifted,
She knew not why,
Old loves and faded fears
Float down a stream that hears
The flowing of all men’s tears beneath the sky.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A Rose Arose
Of all that nature’s garden grows
the fairest flower is the Rose,
bending to each breeze that blows.
Rose beauty, joy, together sows, -
‘Tis true, as everybody knows, -
inadequately penned in prose.
For from her crown all colour flows,
her petals pink or red she shows,
with white or amber, golden glows.
‘Tis said, or so the story goes,
her spiny thorns are elf arrows
to scare the sprites from the meadows.
In slumber see her heart enclose
bee’s happiness, in sweet repose,
unsullied by harsh winter snows.
Both dark and bright, white, virgin shows, -
the rose from Paradise arose,
and on Time's wing she blows, she blows.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Pink Rose
A Pink rose is for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Where passion and purity,
With love and peace,
Combines and grows,
That brings forth the Pink rose,
Of the Red rose,
And of the White rose,
When both entwine,
Comes the Pink rose,
For all the blushing brides,
When the proposal is asked,
With the Pink rose as a sign,
Is one asking another,
In love and loves first
Red and White,
That all will show,
And carry a wedding bonquet,
Are all the Blushing brides to be,
For the Pink rose if for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Representing passion and purity,
That has love and peace,
Combining and growing,
From two different in color,
One extreme to another,
From the Red and the White,
That combine,
And show true love,
A Pink rose evolves,
Showing true love,
It shows in it's splendor of Pink,
For the blushing bride to be,
So to say,
'I do',
When the question is popped,
On this Valentines Day,
Valentine's Day,
A day of proposal's,
Where it is asked,
From one to another,
'Will you be mine',
From this Valentine's Day,
On to,
The next,
And,
The next,
And,
There after.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Ten Roses
For every tear you cry,
I cry a hundred thousand more,
I'll give you ten roses,
For everything you're fighting for.
The first will be a red rose,
For courage and for health,
The second a bright yellow rose,
For gaining all life's wealth,
The third will be a soft pink rose,
So you may be happy in love,
The fourth will be a white rose,
Brought by a turtledove,
The fifth will be an orange rose,
To give you back your fire,
The sixth will be a deep pink rose,
So you may have what you desire,
The seventh will be a coral rose,
To gain you many friends,
The eighth will be a purple rose,
To guide you through life's bends,
The ninth will be a pale yellow rose,
To give you hope to try,
The tenth will be a black rose,
So you can mourn me when I die.
I have to leave my dearest friend,
But may the roses last you til my end,
I'm sorry I could not say goodbye,
Though ten roses I leave by your side.
I leave you with a kiss,
Along with these rose flowers,
I know I will be missed,
But I pray the roses will give you power,
Power to go on my love,
Power to be strong,
Power to get over me,
And let your life carry on
poem by Ruth warren
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The White Rose
A lonely kid had no friends,
within his home his world ends.
He used to dream about colorful roses,
his love for roses was in heavy doses.
His nights filled with fears and tears,
days rolled like million years.
His mom took him to a rose garden one day,
she wanted to buy him a rose plant for his birthday.
The rose plants giggled about the boys face.
Their words wiped his happiness without a trace.
A dropp of his tear fell on a white rose's petal.
The petal turned red like a rare earth metal.
The plant pleaded him 'please don't cry'.
The words of the rose plant made him fly.
He took that plant to his garden.
From then his life was a gladden.
He took care of the white rose like a baby.
Loving that white rose was his full-time hobby.
His dreams and heart were filled with love.
His heart was pure like the whitest dove.
At an evening the rose looked dull and dry.
The kid was full of cry and wondering why,
he didn't stopped his painful weep,
that whole night he didn't sleep.
His tired eyes slept for a minute in a doze,
a voice in his dream told something about the rose,
the dawn broke with the rose blooming,
but the kid was gone missing.
He was never been found not even a hint.
His heart was beating under the roots of the rose plant.
Because in his dream he heard that,
the rose can live forever with a human heart.
So he left his heart and he depart.
poem by Vimal Kumar N
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Little White Rose
Little white rose that I loved, I loved,
Roisin ban, Roisin ban!
Fair my bud as the morning's dawn.
I kissed my beautiful flower to bloom,
My heart grew glad for its rich perfume—
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew red,
Roisin rua, Roisin rua!
Passionate tears I wept for you.
Love is more sweet than the world's fame—
I dream you back in my heart the same,
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew black,
Roisin duv, Roisin duv!
So I knew not the heart of you.
Lost in the world's alluring fire,
I cry in the night for my heart's desire,
Little white rose that I loved!
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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5 Roses
Transparent Rose
In my heart lies a Vase
With 5 roses
5 roses all for you
With five different colors
All to show you what you mean to me
The First Rose
The yellow Rose
The yellow rose is the rose for you from me
To let you know you’re my friend, my best friend
That is a way to show you I’ll be always there for you
The Second Rose
The Blue Rose
The blue rose is to show you
With all my heart what you mean to me
With this rose I show you
There is no battle that I won’t fight for you there is no ocean big enough that can separate my love from you
There is no mountain high enough that I can’t climb for you
With this rose is the beginning of my love to you
The Third Rose
The Red Rose
Within this rose lies all the love I have for you
All the caring
All the loving
I will give to you
This rose show you how you should be treated
I will always romance your heart just to see you smile
Like an Angel
The Fourth Rose
The White Rose
With this rose I show you
All the passion that lies in my heart
All the tenderness I have towards you
All the love that I will show you each time I have and can
With all my strength and love
My heart cries for you
The Fifth Rose
A Rose that has no color
A rose that is undying
A rose that you can see trough and that there is nothing to hide
A rose so pure and true
That all that lies in it is you
So perfectly, so preciously
A girl that is so pure of heart like an angel
This Rose is a Transparent Rose
With this rose I show you all that I am
With this rose I show you I have nothing to hide
Here you can see your reflection that lies in my heart
A love so deeply living in me
I love you with all my heart
And there is no way that these roses will die
Your love is the water to keep them alive
poem by Ricky Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Transparent Rose
Transparent Rose
In my heart lies a Vase
With 5 roses
5 roses all for you
With five different colors
All to show you what you mean to me
The First Rose
The yellow Rose
The yellow rose is the rose for you from me
To let you know you’re my friend, my best friend
That is a way to show you I’ll be always there for you
The Second Rose
The Blue Rose
The blue rose is to show you
With all my heart what you mean to me
With this rose I show you
There is no battle that I won’t fight for you there is no ocean big enough that can separate my love from you
There is no mountain high enough that I can’t climb for you
With this rose is the beginning of my love to you
The Third Rose
The Red Rose
Within this rose lies all the love I have for you
All the caring
All the loving
I will give to you
This rose show you how you should be treated
I will always romance your heart just to see you smile
Like an Angel
The Fourth Rose
The White Rose
With this rose I show you
All the passion that lies in my heart
All the tenderness I have towards you
All the love that I will show you each time I have and can
With all my strength and love
My heart cries for you
The Fifth Rose
A Rose that has no color
A rose that is undying
A rose that you can see trough and that there is nothing to hide
A rose so pure and true
That all that lies in it is you
So perfectly, so preciously
A girl that is so pure of heart like an angel
This Rose is a Transparent Rose
With this rose I show you all that I am
With this rose I show you I have nothing to hide
Here you can see your reflection that lies in my heart
A love so deeply living in me
I love you with all my heart
And there is no way that these roses will die
Your love is the water to keep them alive
poem by Carlos Wever
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Venus in the Garden
'Twas at early morning,
The dawn was blushing in her purple bed,
When in a sweet, embowered garden
She, the fairest of the goddesses,
The lovely Venus,
Roamed amongst the roses white and red.
She sought for flowers
To make a garland
For her golden head.
Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,
In that sweet garden close,
Offered incense to the goddess:
Both the white and the crimson rose.
White roses, red roses, blossoming:
But the fair Venus knew
The crimson roses had gained their hue
From the hearts that for love had bled;
And the goddess made a garland
Gathered from the roses red.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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